Exile
by cimmeria
Summary: Sookie and Eric have never met before becoming neighbours in an apartment block in Shreveport. Eric has been exiled from Louisiana, but remains in hiding to be close to Pam. He is strongly drawn to his fragile, beautiful neighbour, knowing nothing of her traumatic failed relationship with his sworn enemy. For both of them, this love could mean salvation, or death. Adult content.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Eric shifted the blind to peer again into the parking lot through the mist and rain. The little yellow mini was still absent from its bay below his window. He felt a flutter of nerves. She had never been this late returning from work. He did a quick calculation: let's say the bar had been unusually busy. She'd had to work late, but no more than an hour, surely? Merlotte's was always closed by 12, she'd told him that. Her boss was tight with overtime, but he didn't expect his staff to work for free. Then, say, she'd had to stop for petrol or something: another ten minutes, max. It was now 2.15. The drive from Bon Temps was only 15 minutes and there'd be little to no traffic at this hour. But look at the rain. Torrential, had been for hours. The Shreveport road was treacherous in these conditions. Eric had a vision of the little yellow mini bobbing and spinning on the crest of a torrent of flood water. He shook his head to clear the image and let out a hiss. Why did he even care? Didn't he have enough on his plate without fretting over the whereabouts of a virtual stranger? And a _human_ stranger, at that? He turned back to his kitchen and popped the unopened bottle of Tru Blood into the microwave feeling a stab of anger as he did so. This is what he was reduced to. Exiled from his own community, mainstreaming in a slum in Shreveport, forced to drink this shit whilst trying to stay sane. Then again, he'd been over his other options a million times and not one of them entailed the survival of himself or his progeny, Pam. If he set foot in Bon Temps again, they'd both be dead. What's more, if the king even got a whiff of a rumour he was lying low in Shreveport he wouldn't live to see another night. He'd be better off in Alaska. Outer Mongolia. But at least here he could still sense the presence of his progeny close enough to know she was safe and to respond if she wasn't. He assumed she could sense it too, that she knew he hadn't deserted her. Not completely. The thought kept him going, kept him strong enough to knock back the Tru Blood and face another night alone. He switched on the TV and slumped on the greasy, battered sofa. A severe weather warning for the whole of North West Louisiana. Oh fucking great.

Sookie pulled up along a narrow side-road and switched off the engine. Visibility was down to ten yards at best and the wind was really starting to get up. Her nerves were shot to pieces already and that had nothing to do with the weather. The state of the weather was just further evidence, Sookie surmised, that someone or something had it in for her one way or another. If it wasn't enough to be threatened by the most powerful vampire in the state simply for serving fries in accordance with the terms of her employment as a fucking waitress, she was now in danger of becoming yet another statistic in Reynard Parish's roll call of weather-related deaths on the Shreveport road. She sighed and fumbled in the back for the blanket she kept for just such an eventuality. She'd sleep in the car. In spite of the fury of the storm it wasn't a cold night and she was so exhausted she'd sleep through a tornado, most probably. As she cuddled down under the cover, she found herself reluctantly playing over the events of the evening.

Bill had arrived at Merlotte's around 10 with two of his security team and a human Sookie didn't recognise. He hadn't acknowledged her, not even with his usual tight smile, and Sookie had no intention of serving him even though he had sat at one of her tables right in front of the bar. No doubt that was deliberate. Arlene signalled with a nod that she'd cover it and Sookie smiled gratefully. She had nothing to say to Bill Compton that didn't end with 'fuck you'. She couldn't help noticing how exhausted he looked, though. The worry lines on his forehead had deepened considerably since he'd become king and he was struggling to keep his voice down as he spoke animatedly to his human companion. Sookie was well aware of the tensions within the vampire community and no doubt Bill was right at the sharp end of it. Maybe he was even the cause of it; God only knew this vampire was no stranger to intrigue as she'd found to her cost. She gritted her teeth and set about attending to a rowdy group of weres who'd settled by the juke box. It was only then that Bill glanced over, pausing in his angry address to the hapless human. The weres were pretty boisterous, but good-humoured enough, at least for now. Sookie was determined to keep it that way, so when one of them made a lame joke about a blob of ketchup on her blouse ('You been bitten, honey? Want a wolf to kiss it better?) she'd forced a weak laugh. Bill in an instant had the wolf by the neck, slammed against the juke box. 'You shut your fucking mouth and get the fuck out of here.' He turned to Sookie with a cold glare. 'And you, you'd better learn to keep your pretty little smiles to yourself, woman, or you're going to end up dead.'

Under her blanket, already half asleep, Sookie's body tensed in anger. This vampire had betrayed her, taken everything she'd had to give and thrown it in the gutter. And here he was bawling her out in front of friends, colleagues and customers for simply doing her job. She recalled the look of shock and pity on Arlene's face as she'd backed away from the scene. Was this going to be the legacy of her relationship with Bill? That he'd taken a strong, spirited woman and turned her into this spineless little girl who stood slack-jawed whilst he humiliated her in front of people she'd known all her life? At that moment she loathed Bill Compton, but she loathed herself more.

It was almost dawn before Eric turned off his lap top and went to the window for a final check. The car wasn't there. He stared hard as if the simple act of looking might cause the little yellow mini to materialise in its parking bay. He swore at his stupidity and pressed his forehead against the glass, a wave of nausea warning him that the sun was coming up. He stumbled to his coffin, resigned to another sleepless day.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The doors to Bill's office swung open as he strode in. He threw his jacket to a simpering vampire maid who delivered a peculiarly awkward rendition of something between a curtsey and a bow.

'Where's Pam?'

She's in her room, your majesty. With a human. She said that...'

'I want her in my office in five minutes.'

Bill sank down into the plush leather chair behind his desk and shouted for a Tru Blood. He sat perfectly still and tried to focus, tried to control his anger. If Pam saw him in this state after a visit to Merlottes, she'd guess the reason. She had never met Sookie to his knowledge, but his obsession with the Bon Temps bar maid was legendary amongst Louisiana's vampires. He couldn't display that kind of weakness to Pam. Christ, what was happening to him? The woman should mean nothing to him, less than nothing. But the sight of those weres leering and sniggering at her, and the sight of her stood there submissively smiling like she had no other choice for her whole fucking life but to wait tables in that shifter's bar. She should be well away from here by now. He'd planned to send her to college, offered to pay her fees and buy her an apartment. It never occurred to him she'd refuse; it was the very least he could do for her, she must see that. It was his way of ... what? Saying sorry? But of course she'd refused. Sookie and her damn pride; for God's sake, she'd barely been able to tolerate him buying her dinner so why the big surprise? It wasn't as if he didn't admire her pride, her spirit, but she was still human. He never figured a creature with a life-span of seventy years would put their pride before their safety. At least she'd moved to Shreveport, but she still insisted on working at that fucking dive of a bar and every minute she spent in this parish put her closer to death. It didn't matter that they were no longer lovers, that she hated his guts, that she probably wished the true-death on him every time their eyes met. By association, she was implicated in the coup that had exiled Eric Northman and set up a bitter enmity between Bill and some of the most powerful sheriffs in the state. Eric still had his loyal supporters. Pam was one of them, she was simply one of the more pragmatic. He settled his expression and stared indifferently at his finger nails as Pam slid into the chair in front of him. Her evident irritation was concealed by a smooth, compliant smile. She had blood on her chin. Bill sighed inwardly, but decided to be diplomatic.

'The New Orleans weres are in Bon Temps, Pam. They were at Merlotte's tonight and according to Gloria they're staying at the Carson Motel on the Shreveport highway. I need to know why they're here. I want you to investigate.'

'Why me, your majesty? Why not send a human? They blend.'

'Because any human I sent would be terrified and the weres would smell their fear a mile away. They'd come back in pieces. You are vampire and they are no match for you. Plus, you are well positioned for this assignment, with your connections to...'

'To Eric.'

'To Northman, yes. You will recognise the New Orleans pack, by sight or smell at least...'

Pam rolled her eyes, incredulous. Yes, as if she could ever _forget_...

'So it will take only a brief survey of the territory for you to establish how many of the pack are here. Then, make enquiries at the motel. Ask questions of the human staff, glamour them if necessary.'

Oh please, and this was _Bill_ talking? Pam had to hand it to him, he was growing into the role. He was getting smarter, more cunning, more ruthless... more like...

'You know, sir, I'm not the best person for this assignment. I'm the most disciplined of the hysterical, senseless bunch you've got right now and, yes, I guess I'm flattered you're trusting me to do this in the light of all that's happened. But if you still had Eric...'

Bill raised his eyes slowly to Pam's. They registered absolutely no emotion. 'Pam, I understand your loyalty to Northman and I forgive it. It is entirely natural and in other circumstances I would commend it. But your remark puts you very close to treachery against your king and I will not hear Northman's name in my presence again, you understand? You will do what I say and you will do it without complaint. You are lucky your maker is still alive.'

Pam nodded deeply in a show of submission. 'When shall I go?'

'Tonight. Now. The weres left Merlottes hyped up and aggressive, they will have gone hunting. You'll be able to track them easily, but don't be seen. And Pam? Wipe that blood off your chin. It's human, I assume? They'll smell it a mile away.'


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Sookie's head lolled forward and her eyes half opened. Had she awoken naturally, or had something out there pulled her from a deep, dreamless sleep? She reached for the bottled water on her passenger seat and took a sip, suddenly jolting upright. Yes, there was something out there. Not human, not straightforward shifter either, but some restless, violent cloud of emotion was lurking just beyond the line of trees by the track... oh shit...wolves. Werewolves. Sookie dropped into the foot well under the dashboard and tried to focus, to control her breathing, to control her fear. They would probably smell her. Hell, they must surely have smelled her already and if they were the weres from Merlotte's earlier, they would recognise her scent. Angry, hungry wolves looking for a kill and lo and behold who should pop up but the waitress responsible for their public humiliation in a packed bar less than two hours before. Sookie figured she might as well put a gun to her head. It would be quicker and less painful. Her only other option, besides shivering on the floor of her car waiting to be eaten, was to drive the hell out of there and hope she reached the highway before they attacked. She tried to remember how far she'd turned up the track before stopping in the rain. How far did she have to reverse to get back to the road? It wasn't going to be easy to back up quickly, the track would be muddy and if she went too fast she ran the risk of the wheels sticking and sinking. So, she was going to let herself be taken by a pack of thugs like a frightened little animal, then? A sudden jolt of rage obliterated Sookie's fear for the second necessary to flick on the engine and throw the car into reverse. A streak of fur out of the trees. The car skidded back violently. A dark shape, low growl, a gleam of amber. As Sookie had dreaded, the wheels stuck fast in the mud. She pumped the peddle down harder and harder, screaming in fear and frustration as she accepted that, in her panic, all she was doing was driving the wheels deeper and deeper into the mud. Flash of white, claws scraping on metal. Sookie put her head on the wheel and closed her eyes. Oh Bill ... why... why?

There were several long, deafening roars. Then a series of shorter growls and whimpers, some very close, some distant. The sound of mud and water churning, of wood splintering. Movements of air, a whooshing noise like a great bird landing. Then silence.

Her mind strangely tranquil, Sookie wondered how it was that she had failed to become aware of the ripping of her limbs from her body. Was this some kind of transitional state between life and death? She remained still, almost senseless. Then she wiggled a toe. A finger. She began to feel her forehead sticky with sweat against the driving wheel of her car. How was this happening? How was she... still alive? She raised her head tentatively an inch or so and opened her eyes. Looking at her through the windscreen was a female vampire, some six feet tall, fangs extended, covered in blood. She looked like the very angel of death. Sookie screamed and fainted.

'What a stupid fucking car.' Pam plucked twigs, grass and fur from her hair and marvelled at the absurd life-style choices of certain humans. Is it designed for midgets, she mused? Has the state of Louisiana decided to award driving permits to eight year olds? Eric might have called it a 'tea cup car!' Pam smiled, then frowned. Sun rise wasn't far off and she'd have to get her shit together if she was to get back in time to explain this matter to Bill in such a manner that he didn't stake her on the spot. As she manoeuvred Sookie on to the back seat, she reviewed the situation. She'd killed three weres. She scented another four in the vicinity, that was less than half of the New Orleans pack. Unless the rest were enjoying a civilised gin and tonic back at the motel these were the only weres in Bon Temps, though surely not for long given the devastation Pam had just visited upon their number. Oh, she was in deep shit. And as she squeezed awkwardly behind the wheel she was struck by the sheer ridiculousness of the circumstances – that she, a one hundred and thirty year old vampire and daughter of Eric Northman, should be reduced to driving this preposterous vehicle.

Bill was pacing the office and when he spotted Pam crunching heavily over the gravel, he was surprised to see his PR manager smile brightly and wave enthusiastically like a child back from a school trip rather than a vampire drenched in blood lugging an unconscious human over one shoulder. He was on the drive-way in a second, his face a spasm of incredulity and fury.

'What. The fuck. Have you. Done.'

'Bill, please. I was only following your own orders. That we must act at all times in the best interests of humans unless we ourselves are under immediate threat. The weres were set to attack this human. I had no choice. And I was fast, Bill. They didn't know what had hit them. I'm sure the survivors didn't clock it was me.'

'The...survivors?'

'Three weres dead. Four fled the scene. I recognised all of them, I can give you their names and...'

'NO! NO!'

Bill had moved round to check out the human and appeared momentarily to have taken leave of his senses. He quickly recovered. 'Enough, Pam. You can report back tomorrow. Take this woman to my office, lay her on the coach. Gloria can deal with her. Go to your room.'

Pam jogged off, baffled and mightily relieved. What the hell had come over his stupid fucking majesty? Who was this silly human who got stuck up dirt tracks in were-infested woods driving a fluffy bunny little yellow car? But as Pam laid the girl down on Bill's sofa, she froze. She looked more closely at the logo on the blonde kid's shirt. Merlotte's. She started to shake with silent laughter. Ho Ho Ho Hoooo...ooookay!

Sookie had been left in a dishevelled heap and her breathing was shallow and laboured. Bill re-arranged her into what he imagined was a rough approximation of the 'recovery position'. She'd lost weight, her bones felt sharp under her skin. He stood back and gazed at her. Her shirt had risen up slightly exposing a tanned patch of skin above the waist-band of her shorts. It was mesmorising. Bill reached out his hand and placed a cool finger on the smooth flesh slick with sweat. He swallowed hard. If he could just kiss her there, bite her, taste just one drop of her sweet blood... he could heal her before she came to... No. Madness. Bill jerked back his hand and virtually ran out of his office. He couldn't be there when Sookie woke. She couldn't see him here at all. Gloria would have to explain what had happened and drive her home.

He stopped in the hallway and pressed his back against the wall. He closed his eyes and when they opened a second later, his expression was one of cool sobriety. He texted his secretary and strode towards her room. On the grey marble floor, a single drop of blood. One solitary scarlet tear.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N Thanks to everyone who is reading and being so supportive. This is my first fanfic and I'm not sure where it will go exactly, but I hope you enjoy it. Thanks again!**

Chapter 4

Eric's eyes shot open and his body went rigid. It was Sookie. It was her voice.

'Thank you for your concern, ma'm. Please pass on my thanks to... that lady. Goodbye.'

Her tone was timid and shaky. She was safe. She was safe. But what had happened to her? Eric resolved to catch her later, before she left for work. She was safe. She was safe. His eyes closed.

The trauma of recent months notwithstanding, Sookie had rarely been as pleased as she was at that moment to lock the door and shut out the world. She'd spent almost the entire day sleeping at Bill's, dead to the world, yet she still felt deeply drained and heavy-headed and what was worse she had no clear recollection of what had really happened to her the night before. The last thing she remembered before waking up at Bill's was sensing the wolves around her and the feel of her wheels spinning uselessly in the mud. Turned out some vampire named Pam had found her slumped over her steering wheel unconscious, but otherwise unscathed. She'd driven Sookie back to Bill's, but why? Why not take her to the hospital? Vampires as a rule shunned contact with the human authorities, but denying a human medical treatment was a serious matter. Had Pam wanted to feed on her? And yet she _was_ entirely unharmed, apart from this thudding headache. So, it seemed that a pack of hungry werewolves with every reason to be furious at her had pranced out of the trees to her stranded car, given her a sniff, and decided they just didn't fancy a bite after all. An employee of Bill's had just happened to be passing through the area during a violent storm. No, there was something wrong here, something that made her reach back to the door behind her just to steady herself. This whole thing... reminded her...of another night after work when she'd been attacked and Bill had miraculously intervened to save her. The weres in the bar, Bill so easily provoked...at little too easily? Jesus, no.

Sookie pushed herself forward and marched to the bathroom. She was not going down this road, no way. Bill Compton had no power over her now. He could not scare her or manipulate her, no matter what stunts he tried to pull. Sookie had to believe this, and she would believe it, and it would be true. She ripped off her stinking uniform and flung it the floor, stepped into the shower and set it to max. The sting of hot water cleansed her body and numbed her mind.

It was dusk now and she was due in work in an hour. Damnit, she had to give herself a break. But she could hardly explain the situation to Sam without him freaking out on her so she invented a stomach bug and tried not to feel too guilty about it. She'd crack open a bag of chips, a bottle of chardonnay and watch her favourite old movie: Casablanca. As she pulled the cork and flicked on the DVD, there was a tentative knock at the door. Shit. Sam? Just like him to rush over with a bag of meds for the invalid, bless him. She'd better hide the wine and the chips, this was not a good impersonation of a person suffering from stomach 'flu. On the way to the door she messed up her hair a bit and tried to look sick.

'Eric?'

Sookie was taken aback to find her downstairs neighbour stood in the hallway wearing a nervous smile.

'Sookie! I just wanted to check you're OK. The storm last night, they were advising people not to drive. You didn't get back, I thought maybe you'd had an accident.'

Sookie smiled broadly. She hadn't expected this. To think someone had been worried about her, had even noticed she hadn't returned last night – it warmed her. God knows she needed a friend right now. But could she call this, well, this peculiar vampire a friend? They'd had maybe five or six conversations since she'd moved in, usually conducted in the parking lot or the stair well. Eric always seemed fascinated by the minor details of her life: where had she eaten lunch, what had she eaten, had it been a good night for tips, who was her boss, was he treating well? It could almost have been creepy, but there was nothing creepy about Eric. He was intense, certainly, even for a vampire; a little scary, yes. And there was a fierce arrogance to him, she could sense that; he seemed to expect her to be entirely in awe of him. But there was a depth of loneliness to him that resonated with Sookie and he was always so courteous, kind of old-fashioned, in a way not unlike B...

'Eric, thank you. That's so sweet. Please come in. As you can see, I'm in one piece.'

She stood back as Eric dipped through the door and already her apartment seemed a good deal smaller with him in it.

'Mmm, would you like a Tru blood? I think I have some...I can check?'

'God no, I hate that stuff.'

Sookie eyed Eric sharply and took a step back.

'Oh no, I didn't mean... I don't feed on humans. I drink Tru Blood, but it's a necessity to me. I do not enjoy it. And I'm not thirsty. Sorry.'

Sookie sighed. What was she thinking? Here was her neighbour come to enquire after her welfare and she'd virtually accused him of wanting to drain her. 'No, I'm sorry. Just touchy that's all, it's been a rough twenty four hours. Look, I could really use some company. I was gonna watch an old movie, Casablanca. Do you know it? Do you want to stay?'

Eric smiled slowly – and there it was, she thought, that arrogant, predatory glint in the eye; she held his gaze firmly and answered his unspoken challenge.

'Do you want to stay _to watch the film._'

Eric's smile vanished. He looked appalled. 'Yes, love to. Absolutely. Bogart. Love him.'

As the closing shot faded on Bogart walking away from the plane that would take the love of his life away from him forever, Sookie was dabbing her eyes.

'Damnit, I've seen it a hundred times and it still does this to me. I think I only watch it to _make_ myself cry. It's soooo therapeutic.'

Eric pursed his lips, trying not to smile. A thousand years on this earth and human women were still a glorious fucking mystery. He wanted to crush this sweet girl in his arms.

'But why do you need to cry, Sookie? A rough twenty four hours? You want to talk?'

His voice was deep, gentle, reassuring. Sookie pulled her knees to her chest and sighed.

'My ex turned up at the bar last night. He caused a scene, it was awful. I was so upset, not fit to drive at all really let alone in that weather. I pulled up off the road to sit it out, fell asleep. When I woke up, I could sense werewolves. I have a kind of ... intuition, it's a long story. I tried to drive away, but my car stuck in the mud.'

Sookie started to shake and sob, it was as if a dam had finally burst. Eric put his arm around her softly, barely touching her shoulder.

'They were all around me, Eric. Then – I don't know – I passed out? Next thing I knew I was waking up in Bill Compton's house.'

Eric tensed and Sookie felt it. 'Yeah, I know! The vampire king, big deal, uh? Apparently, a vampire called Pam got me out of the woods, employee of Bill's...'

Eric drew back his arm, went rigid. Sookie turned to look at him and was shocked by what she saw. His expression was wild, desperate.

'Eric? What...'

'I know Pam. She works for the king, yes. She... she is my child. We are estranged, you might say.'

'You're her maker? She saved my life, Eric. This is just... but your bond with her? God, this is awful. Did Bill Compton have something to do with this?'

'Yes. No. It's a long story, Sookie. I can't talk about it. But sometimes we...even vampires... we're not the masters of our own fate.'

Sookie placed her hand over his. 'No, Eric. No we are not.' She turned away and buried her head in her knees, bringing them tighter to her chest. Then she whispered so softly that even with his vampire hearing Eric would never have heard it if his senses had not been on full alert:

'Bill Compton's my ex.'


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N A brief diversion here from Eric and Sookie just for this short chapter. Thanks for reading and for the encouraging comments! It's great to receive your thoughts and suggestions. **

Chapter 5

Marcus was lapping the pool trying to get rid of his hangover and the vague sense of dread that had prompted him to down three quarters of a bottle of bourbon in the first place. As he touched down for his nineteenth lap, he caught sight of his mate Debbie hovering nervously by the door. When she saw he'd finally spotted her, she raised her hand and walked to the side of the pool, kneeling down and speaking low and fast.

'Marcus, you have to come. Clay's back. Don't know why, but it's major – it's looking like a fucking disaster.'

Marcus pushed back from the side of the pool and trod the water, eying his mate sceptically.

'It'd better be fucking major. He's not due back for another week. It'd better not be some of his bull shit...'

'Marcus, please. He's out front, ranting and raving. I wouldn't let him in. I think he's gone _nuts_.'

Marcus groaned and pulled himself out of the pool, rubbing himself down quickly before pulling on his sweat pants. What was the likelihood this was just some tedious fucking bull shit? Pretty damn high, he figured. Clay was as strong and loyal as they come, but ninety nine percent of the time he was also a total fucking arsehole. He was probably pissed at the inadequately stocked mini-bar at the motel, or the limited range of porn on the adult channels. Marcus padded bare-foot to his front porch, his long wet hair dripping uncomfortably down his back and his hangover still very much a reality. Jesus, this had better be good.

He froze when he saw his second-in-command pacing the deck like a lunatic. He was covered in blood and filth, wearing only a ragged pair of levis that barely covered his ass. Marcus choked down his astonishment, his anger and, yes, his fear. He adopted an attitude of absolute calm.

'What is it, Clay? Tell me.'

'Three dead.' He spat out the words, barely able to breathe.

'Who, Clay? How?'

'Nathan, Cooter, Phillipe. That vampire bitch, Pam.'

'I need a bit more to go on, Clay.' Marcus took a step forward, his hands extended, trying to calm the man down. Fuck, it was like dealing with a demented beast. 'Was it unprovoked? Exactly. What. Happened?'

Clay growled and for the first time met Marcus' cool gaze. 'In Merlotte's last night, Bill Compton showed up and there's that bar maid serving our table. Coot made some lewd remark. Compton went for him. We didn't take the bait, we just left; at that point, yeah, we still had our shit together. But we were riled up, Marcus, especially Coot and you know what he's like. We had to work it off, so we changed outside the bar. Just for the run back to the motel, we were not intending to kill. But then that fucking stupid waitress – her car broke down in the wood.'

'You killed _Sookie Stackhouse_?'

'No, no. But the blood took over, yeah. We – and I mean we, I'm not excluding myself from this – we probably would've killed her, yeah.'

'But the vampire...'

'Out of fucking nowhere. Can't even tell you what happened, not really. Four of us got out, didn't realise three were missing till we got over the parish line. We went back, but... nothing left of them.'

Marcus gazed at the floor for several moments, thoughtfully stroking his chin.

'So. Bill Compton arrives at Merlotte's by some peculiar coincidence and attacks the most vicious and unstable member of our pack for some throw-away line to a human he used to fuck? You leave pumped up and ready for a kill, and Sookie Stackhouse just happens to end up stranded in the woods half a mile from your motel...?'

His raised his eyes to Clay whose jaw dropped slightly as he caught Marcus' drift.

'It was a set up. Compton gets you riled up, you run into the night and he makes sure Stackhouse is right in the middle of harm's way with Pam circling the area. Maybe the girl was in on it, she probably still works for the king. Or he could have tampered with her car to make sure she broke down, I wouldn't put that past him. Whatever. We've been royally screwed, my man.'

'But why?'

'He sensed a threat? Wanted to warn us off? But to be frank, judging by the extremity of his provocation, I would suggest that the war is not over for Bill Compton. And if he wants a war...'

'He'll get one,' Clay said flatly.

'You're too right he fucking will.'


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N Another speedy update! I think my chapters might be too short, maybe I should merge some of them. I just find it easier to break a scene with a new chapter. Thanks again for your positivity!**

Chapter 6

Eric was sitting on his sofa in the middle of the day. Tracks of blood lined his face and neck. He'd tried to slip into his black, dreamless death-sleep but he could hear faint movements from the apartment above, sighs and tuts, hums and small groans of frustration as Sookie carried out her chores. These little human noises raised waves of emotion that Eric did not recognise; they'd compelled him out of his coffin to sit bleeding in the dark, staring at his fists clenching and unclenching.

This woman. The Merlotte's bar maid who'd had Bill Compton slavering and drooling for the best part of a year. She'd said it in a barely articulate whisper; Eric didn't believe she'd even intended to say it out loud. He was convinced she'd not meant for him to hear it and he'd pretended he hadn't. He couldn't begin to process it anyway. He'd comforted her, helped her clear up her sitting room and took his leave politely, assuring her that he was there if she needed him. And all the time those words pounding in his head, sickening in their implications: 'Bill Compton's my ex.'

This woman. She was toxic. Rumour had it she was the reason Bill had killed the queen and if that was true then all the bloodshed, the war with New Orleans, his exile, all of it, could be traced back to this tiny female moving lightly through the apartment above him. This scrap of human flesh had destabilised the entire state of Louisiana and parted him from his progeny, possibly forever. He growled low, and punched the sofa again and again and again. He should go up there and break her fucking neck. This woman.

But the feel of her soft, warm hand on his; her eyes, so bright and full of spirit even when full of tears. Bill had hurt her, that much was obvious. Their split was common knowledge, but nobody knew the reason for it, or at least nobody was prepared to say. What had he done to her? She'd moved to Shreveport to get away from him, that figured, but he was showing up at Merlotte's and making trouble for her, leaving her so distraught she nearly ended up getting killed by weres? And she'd ended up in his house, unconscious, and she remembered nothing? What had Bill done to her? He'd seen no bite marks on her body, or at least no visible bite marks. Jesus. She'd looked so pale. And the way she jumped back when he refused the Tru Blood – he couldn't account for how he might have been staring at her, she was such a fucking sweet vision. He shivered. Wishing to kill Bill Compton was not an unusual emotion for Eric, but at that moment he could think of no greater pleasure, nothing in one thousand years on this earth that would come close to the furious glory of staking that vampire king through the heart and watching him turn to blood and pulp.

His fangs ran out and he threw back his head. Months of loneliness, devastation, abjection – all of that was better than this. This – was - madness.

This would kill him.

At that moment, a motorcycle courier was receiving a parcel from the proprietor of Merlotte's bar. Sam seemed anxious and perplexed as he attempted to convey to the deliverer that this consignment was not from him, but from a customer who did not know, and who was under no circumstances to find out, the recipient's address. Yes, that might sound bizarre (the courier had widened his eyes in amazement), but it was vital that any receipt, or further communication, was to come back to the bar and not to the billing address. And so the motorcycle headed off to Jackson Avenue, Shreveport, with a delivery for a Miss Sookie Stackhouse - six red roses and a white card which read:

'Sookie,

I am extremely sorry for my behaviour at Merlotte's. I lost control. I have not been myself lately. Please accept my heartfelt apologies. I am glad, though, that my servant Pam was able to come to your assistance and that my house afforded you some protection from the weres that I understand attacked you. However, the repercussions of that incident are likely to be felt for some time and I would ask you to please take special care over the next few weeks. Pam dealt very efficiently with the threat posed to you, perhaps a little too efficiently. There may well be reprisals and I would like to offer you the benefit of my human security team. I will not send vampires to your home. Whilst I believe you are unlikely to accept this offer, should you wish to do so then please tell the courier delivering this gift. He will convey the message via Sam Merlotte who has kindly agreed to mediate for me in this matter. Please rest assured that at least in this regard I have not betrayed your trust. I have not tried to find you. If you accept the protection of my guards, they will be glamoured to ensure they do not reveal your location.

Yours Truly,

Bill.'

The courier had three more deliveries to make before two and none of them were within ten miles of each other. He slowed down at the corner, but not enough. The road was still slick with rain and his wheels skidded from under him, the bike spinning down the bank, a forty foot drop to the river below. The satchel containing the message for Sookie detached from the bike and whirled away, caught up in the swell.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N Another fairly short chapter followed by a few longer ones I've got in the pipeline which will intensify the Sookie-Eric angst! Thanks for reading and for your lovely comments, it's really, really appreciated.**

Chapter 7

The entire New Orleans pack, or what remained of it, was assembled in Marcus' basement. He tilted his chair back against the wall and surveyed them with a complacent smile. Debbie bit her lip and tried to keep her hands from shaking. This was not good.

'Let me state, for the record, that I do not hold Clay responsible for this fiasco. I sent seven weres to Bon Temps and only four came back. The error was mine. I did not realise what we were up against. I must also explain to all of you why I sent seven of our number into what turns out to have been a very clever little trap. I apologise for not telling you sooner, I meant no disrespect.'

There was a murmur of general assent, a few angry hisses and growls.

'The fewer people who knew about this the better, or so I thought. Not everyone would accept my reasoning; better to try to justify it to y'all once we knew the lie of the land. This uneasy peace is not good for us. It's volatile. Sheriff Edgington is restless and he still wants the crown. It's only a matter of time before he makes a move against Compton. We backed the wrong vamp last time and we were lucky to survive. Compton was weak, in fact, to let us live even if we did throw him a scapegoat. I think he knows this. He will not make the same mistake again. So, considering our position in this district right now, I figured a meaningful truce with Compton was the best option – not a pledge of allegiance, but something more than this frail cease-fire. Why wouldn't he want that? He might hold us in contempt, but we're better with him than against him. And, after all, as far as Compton's concerned the threat to his throne has gone. He still – and I admit I find this frankly fucking astonishing - he _still_ does not suspect Edgington of anything more than bad judgement. Then again, sometimes we all need to believe the lie, I guess. I sent Clay's party to check out the ambience in Bon Temps, no more than that. Compton clearly got wind of us coming – I don't know how and if I find it was leak from in here... well, you don't need me to tell you. Looks like Compton used the Stackhouse girl as bait and the female vampire as executioner. It was a very clear message, no? Question is, what do we do?'

Marcus glanced around the room expectantly.

'It's obvious.' Clay's voice was cold, sarcastic even, from the back of the room. 'Go to Edgington. He owes us. And he's looking for an excuse to move.'

'I was expecting this, thank you Clay. But no. That would be the single most stupid fucking thing we could do. The sheriff of Area Two has no loyalty to us, he does not understand the concept; he has no reason whatever to fight our battle. If he did, it would be out of pure self interest which might not be _too_ bad if recent history hadn't taught us that even for a vampire he's a fucking lunatic. No. We're on own here. We fight our own fight. And we take it right back to Compton.'

A babble of excited chatter broke out. Marcus raised his hand and shushed the pack.

'We make it look like we want justice, that's all. And we act independently. The Sheriff will respect that and it will serve his interests for Bill to be weakened. If war breaks out again – which it will – then we side with Edgington, of course. But we don't want be in Edgington's debt, which we will be if we run to him now to sort out our squabble over three dead weres. If Edgington wins – which he almost _certainly_ will with the support of every Sheriff in the state apart that puppet who took over Area Five - it would be disastrous for us to owe him _anything_ once he's taken Louisiana. You with me?'

Murmurs and growls of agreement.

'Now, it strikes me that Sookie Stackhouse is Compton's weak link. I don't know how much of a shit he gives about her now he ain't fucking her, but she's invaluable to him. A telepathic human who is apparently _immune to glamour_! I'm surprised he lets her out of his fucking sight. Nobody's wasting that girl away at a shifter's bar, she's working for the monarchy, no doubt. So the first move is on her.'

'Kill her?'

'Noooo, Clay. I think you already tried that? Didn't go too well, did it? We take her and leave Compton in no doubt of the outcome if he doesn't give us recompense. And our recompense will be Pam.'

Debbie finally plucked up the courage to speak. 'Pam? Marcus, you do remember who her maker is, right? And don't you think we might have pissed him off enough already? This is the one thing, the only fucking thing, that would bring Northman out of exile.'

Marcus smiled like it was Christmas morning and he was four years old.

'Oh, yes! And that's when it gets interesting.'


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N – A longer chapter in which Sookie recalls her first meeting with her mysterious neighbour and Eric takes a step towards protecting Sookie against the New Orelans werewolves which is sadly going to radically back-fire...**

Chapter 8

It had been real kind of Arlene to agree to switch shifts at such short notice. More storms were forecast and Sookie had no intention of driving back alone after midnight on the notorious Shreveport highway in a battered old mini. It was sweet to be driving home in daylight, even if the highway was a little busier than Sookie was used to. This was what passed for rush hour between Bon Temps and Shreveport and, since it was Friday, there was a little more traffic than usual as people fled out of the towns for their weekend breaks. Snookie snorted as a lumbering Winnebago beeped its horn and overtook at a very reckless speed for a large vehicle on a wet road. What must it be like, she wondered, to have such wealth and privilege you could escape each weekend in your own house-on-wheels? She'd barely had a weekend off in years and even if she had, she wouldn't have been able to afford to actually _go_ anywhere. She shook off the self-pity; at least she had a job and two bags of groceries on her passenger seat – many people could not say that these days.

In her rear view mirror, she spotted the bluey-green truck that had pulled out behind her as she'd left Bon Temps. Sookie had keen eyesight and felt that she vaguely recognised the driver. Longish, curly red hair and the beginnings of a beard. Probably someone she'd seen a few times in the Shreveport Wal-Mart, she figured. Yeah, he must be a local – he swung behind her into Jackson Avenue and cruised past as she turned into her parking lot.

Lugging her groceries upstairs she thought of her vampire neighbour, presumably snugly asleep behind the door of apartment 6. A couple of times, when she'd been back after dark, he'd appeared on the steps offering to take her bags and asking her those slightly-too-intimate questions (_was_ that creepy?) in that deep, slightly foreign accent (_was_ that sexy?). She was pleased last night to have made some sort of connection with Eric. He intrigued her and, yes, he was attractive but his strange manner had always been at the very least disconcerting. His behaviour was unpredictable and contradictory: one minute the Southern gentleman, the next arrogantly flirtatious, the next apparently frightened of her and desperate to get away. Sookie knew very few vampires, Bill had always been keen to keep her as far as possible from his own community (and with hindsight, it was heartbreakingly obviously why), but Eric seemed to be a breed apart. She really had no category in which to place him, no means at all of understanding what made him tick.

As she unloaded her groceries and packed them away, she thought back to the first time they'd met. She'd been living on Jackson Avenue for a good few months after splitting with Bill and she was keeping well out of his business. The stories that reached her of what had happened after she'd escaped New Orleans chilled her to the bone and for some time she'd been deeply afraid. She'd thought more than once of quitting Merlotte's and leaving the state. But she'd pulled herself together and was getting into a reasonably contented routine when early one winter evening a blur of something had flashed by her on the stairs. If she hadn't known that vampires could move at such speed (and many humans didn't), she might have thought she'd seen a ghost! The fact that it was, indeed, a vampire was confirmed when the blur flashed past again and appeared in front of her. She'd jumped out of her skin and given a little yelp; the creature was at least a foot taller than her and was staring at her intently.

'Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. I just...' he leaned forward, Sookie leaned back. 'I... do you live here, ma'm?'

Ma'm! Sookie smiled at the memory; there was the Southern gentleman! But he clearly wasn't local. He possibly wasn't even American; there was a slight lilt to his voice... German, maybe?

'Yes, on the top floor. My name's Sookie Stackhouse. And you are...?'

'Eric'. The vampire jumped slightly, as if surprised at himself, and looked somewhat nervous. 'I'm just moving in. Apartment 6. It's my first night. Sorry for flying by like that, how rude! I just want to, you know, get my shit together.'

Sookie had grinned at the Americanism rolling oddly off his tongue in what was definitely a faded, but still unmistakably foreign accent.

'Well, I'm pleased to meet you Eric. Let me know if you need anything, I'm actually in the apartment right above you. I hope you settle in.'

He'd paused for a moment, still gazing down into her eyes, and for a moment his expression was a little ... _too_ confident, cocky, almost smirking.

'Er, if you don't mind? I need to go to work.'

Eric had jumped back, seemingly confused, and shook his head as if coming back to himself. She'd carried on down the stairs not quite knowing whether to be offended or amused by his peculiar demeanour. And months later she still had no clue what to make of him. She didn't even know his last name, or the exact origin of that sexy (yes, it _was_ sexy) unusual undertone to his voice. Before last night, he had offered no clues whatsoever as to his history. His breach with his progeny, Pam, must have cut him deeply and she wondered again if Bill had anything to do with it.

She groaned softly, her stomach lurching at the memory of what she'd murmured so foolishly in Eric's presence last night. By way of justification, she told herself she'd had the best part of a bottle of chardonnay; she'd been deeply upset and really thrown off guard by Eric's revelation and the depths of sadness that seemed to lie beneath that hesitant remark, 'Sometimes, we're not the masters of our fate'. That had struck a deep chord with her; Bill had played her, made her feel as if she'd had choices when in fact she was a pawn in his bigger story. And so the words had slipped out, but muffled by her crying, surely, and Eric had been mightily distracted. He gave no sign of having heard her and that was a God-send because, frankly, that dumb confession was downright dangerous. She barely knew Eric and whilst she hardly knew any other vampires either, the ones she had known had been no fans of hers. They'd been alarmingly hostile to her relationship with Bill from the outset. She remembered Franklin Mott, for instance, a deeply unnerving individual even before he'd whispered to her that time at Bill's: 'Don't go getting any ideas, sugar, you're just blood and pussy to him.' And he'd been right. Franklin and Bill, birds of a feather as it turned out. She'd heard from her friend Tara (who'd dated Franklin, briefly and disastrously) that Bill had promoted that scum-bag to sheriff of Area Five! Vampires were all the same: Bill, Franklin, Sophie-Anne...Eric?

Sookie set about scrubbing her kitchen to within an inch of its life, and humming all the most annoying show-tunes she could remember in order to distract herself. Feeling calmer, she showered, flicked on the movie channel and went to get some pop corn. That was weird, she could have sworn she'd bought some earlier. Maybe it had rolled out of the bag in the car? She sprinted downstairs and hoped nobody saw her out in the parking lot in her bath robe. She caught sight of that bluey-green truck again just up the street. The ginger-haired guy must live closer than she'd thought. She wondered if he worked in Bon Temps; it could be real useful to have a neighbour with a car who shared her route to Merlotte's. That mini of hers was on its last legs, after all.

Eric squinted through the blinds having heard Sookie's swift footsteps on the stairs. He was surprised and amused to see her jogging across the parking lot in her bath robe carrying a pot of pop corn. He felt another sweep of emotion, but this time much more recognisable and much less disturbing: _protectiveness_. What on earth was she doing outside in her night clothes running about with snacks? She must be freezing. Was there nobody to care for Sookie Stackhouse? He should go up to her. Maybe she was watching that daft movie again to make herself cry? Perhaps he could ask about what had happened with Bill?

He tensed. Across the street, maybe twenty metres away, was a dirty, greenish-coloured truck. It was familiar, he thought. His eyes could easily make out the registration, even at that distance, and one advantage (or burden) of his vampire memory was that no detail was lost. That was it. He'd seen that truck a few times, many months before, on the driveway of the house of the leader of the New Orleans pack.

Eric very rarely left his apartment on foot. If he needed fresh air, he'd go out back on to the fire exit and take to the air. The building backed on to disused rail track so he was very unlikely to be seen except by junkies who would assume they were hallucinating. It was with some trepidation, then, that he pulled his hat down low, turned up his collar and slipped into the street. He sniffed – couldn't smell were. He pulled open the back of the truck after a few careful twists of the lock with the knife – the van was decades old and barely secure. Not much in there; a few sleeping bags and old clothes, the usual back-of-vehicle debris. No weapons. Same in the front. Could this be a coincidence? He mustn't over-react. Still, better safe than sorry, and after a sharp look around he knelt down and slashed the two rear tyres. It was a provisional solution, and not that satisfactory if these weres truly meant harm to Sookie, but it would at least stop Clay Fairlee driving off anywhere in a hurry.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Pam glared at her inbox in frustration. Bill had made it pretty clear he didn't want to see her at present and had snapped at her to email the report on the werewolf - erm – 'misfortune'. She'd done so very promptly, but as yet no response. She could not fathom it. Surely the killing of three weres in the aftermath of a war against said weres merited some discussion. She was not looking forward to that discussion, and if she could re-wind time (what a shame vampires had not evolved that skill, she mused) she would leave Sookie Stackhouse to perish in the woods, but this silence from her king was deeply disconcerting if not downright ominous. She wondered if, at that very second, Bill was busy devising a punishment of extraordinary complexity and violence for his PR manager. Or, he could simply be staring into space dazed by the recent proximity of his dearly beloved human. Jesus, of all the mortals she could have dragged back to Bon Temps she had to light upon that delectable piece of confectionary. She put her head in her hands and moaned. When Sookie had been lying in Bill's office, had he..._fed on her_? Because if he'd taken her blood, and if half of what she'd heard about that human was true, then the king of Louisiana was a walking fucking time bomb. She eyed the empty bottle of Tru Blood by her key board. God almighty, she was ravenous. The very thought of feeding on a human made her fangs run out and her body twist with lust. Should she text Melissa? At least Bill was prepared to overlook _that_ little arrangement, which was a major concession given the pressures he was under as king. The Authority was tightening up its 'Tru Blood only' policy and the strain on Bill was noticeable. She smiled as she remembered the training event he'd been forced to attend at the Hotel Carmilla when he first became king: 'Drink no Humans! Spread no Fear!' When he'd returned from Dallas with a box full of shirts and badges bearing this inspirational slogan, he'd told her either to distribute them amongst his vampire staff without delay, or to drop them in the nearest Louisiana swamp, the decision was hers. At least he hadn't lost his sense of humour, and he wasn't a total yes-man ... yet. He wasn't too bad a boss, considering.

Pam slapped the table and laughed bitterly. Yeah, right! _Considering_ he'd exiled her maker on the evidence of a psychotic vampire and a bunch of hounds! She paced to the window and gazed into the night, confused and restless. Eric. She'd felt him. After months of a blank where their bond should be, she'd felt him. He was close, either that or she'd been dreaming when she'd woken up just twelve hours before screaming his name, her body and mind a vortex of dense, vicious, abject emotion. The odd thing was, though, that Eric – wherever he was – didn't appear to be in any immediate danger. The pull wasn't the same as when the New Orleans weres had him. It was ..._worse. _There was no one with him, of that she was certain; whatever was pounding and crushing his spirit was coming from _inside of him_. Her one thousand year old maker was somewhere close, completely alone, and falling to pieces.

Her phone vibrated. Bill. She headed to office, nervous with anticipation.

'Sit down, Pamela. Thank you for your report, it's very useful. Seven weres in our area including the deputy, Clay, and that mad dog Cooter. Not surprised you remembered _his_ scent.' Pam squirmed. 'Not surprised you killed him, either, really. Which brings me to a key question here, Pam. Did you act deliberately to kill these weres? Were you protecting a defenceless human, or were your motives more ... personal?'

Pam stayed still and silent.

'OK. I respect that you do not want to incriminate yourself. But know this, Pam, if your loyalty to Northman and your instincts for revenge in any way undermine my position then it will be the end of you. I could have had you killed when I exiled your maker; the Authority placed no value on your life whatsoever, do you hear me? But you are a remarkable vampire, Pam. And you know what they say about keeping your enemies close. Do not make me regret my clemency.'

Pam nodded deeply.

'I don't know what the weres had in mind sending that party to our district, but even if their intentions were benign we can certainly expect reprisals now. I intend to ensure the situation doesn't deteriorate too rapidly. For the moment, we are on high alert. I've doubled security and nobody may enter this building who is not staff. This includes...'

'Melissa.'

'Yes. I'm afraid you'll have to do without your pet for a while. As soon as it's feasible, I intend to take a deputation to Marcus and to the sheriff of his area. Our line is that this was a highly unfortunate incident, that you were acting to protect Sookie Stackhouse, that I had instructed you to bring her to me after the incident in the bar. We will offer to make amends.' Pam winced. 'Don't worry, your safety will not be compromised. I will not use you as a trade-off, Pam, but I expect total compliance in return, understand? Now, I intend to take Franklin to New Orleans. He needs to be fully briefed so you will shortly accompany me to Fangtasia.'

Pam closed her eyes briefly. So this was her punishment. Not violent, not tortuous, simple but excruciating nevertheless.

'Couldn't you email him? Do I have to go?'

Bill smiled mirthlessly. 'Some business is best transacted face-to-face. You were at the scene, Pam, and I want Franklin fully briefed. Remember. You started this.'

As Pam took to her coffin seething and miserable, two drunken werewolves were staggering down Jackson Avenue just below her maker's window towards the truck which was their home for the day. They were just staking Sookie out, getting the feel of her routine; they weren't aiming to make any sudden moves unless, as Marcus had put it, some 'golden opportunity arose' in which case he wanted her in his basement within the hour. They'd spent the night at the only were bar in Shreveport, Dark Side of the Moon. Debbie had once been part of the small Shreveport were community – you couldn't really call it a pack – and she'd enjoyed catching up with old friends, downing shots and shooting pool. She was absolutely wasted. As she reached the van, she stumbled and fell to the curb.

'Hehehe! Oh, shhhhhit, Clay. Shhhh... look at this. Two flat t-t-tyres.'

'You what?' Clay looked sceptically where Debbie was pointing and sank down.

'Fuck! How the hell?' He ran his fingers through his curly auburn hair. 'They look slashed to me. Jesus, this fucking slum of a district. We only got one spare. I'll text Marcus, he can send someone over.'

'Nononono! A lady on her own would have to ask for help, Clay. A lady whose phone had run out of charge, shhhe would have to seek assistance.'

'What the fuck are you on about?'

'Sookie Stackhouse is a very nice young lady and shhhheeee would help. She would let me use her phone to call... someone, and if that someone couldn't make it down here for... a little while, she would invite me in to wait, wouldn't she? Because she is a fine and polite Southern laaaady.'

Debbie beamed up at Clay and he returned the smile.

'A golden opportunity. Debbie, Marcus is a very lucky man. You are a fucking genius.'


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N My longest chapter yet and it ends on a bit of a cliff hanger! Hope you enjoy, and thanks as ever for reading and responding to the story. **

Chapter 10

Sam was dumping trash when Sookie pulled up at Merlotte's for her early shift. He waved and waited as she walked brightly over; she felt perkier than she had for a good few days.

'A couple of things, Sook. Arlene's OK for the late shift, but she's got a bit of an issue with child care. Won't be here till about 7 so if we're busy I'll have to ask you to stay on a bit, if that's all right?'

Sookie sighed inwardly, but maintained her breezy smile. She had hoped to drop by at Jason's – well, at _her_ house, at gran's house - on the way home and had texted Jason to this effect just before setting out. He had appeared to reply with a yes, but his message was mainly incomprehensible as he had yet to master predictive text. She wasn't going to risk visiting her old home after dark, though; it was too close to Bill's.

'No problem, Sam. What else?'

'Well...have you heard from...Bill, at all?

'God no, why would I?'

'Well... one of his human staff was here, the day after that incident with the weres. Had a message for you.'

'From Bill? What message?'

'Well...I don't really know. I just got the impression Bill would be contacting you, Sook. In fact, I know he was trying to get in touch. But, you know, he doesn't know where you are right now...'

'Christ Sam, please tell me you did not give my address to Bill Compton?'

'Absolutely not, no way, Sook! Please! I'm just concerned, that's all. I think he was mighty worried after that outburst of his. His errand boy even apologised to _me_, for fuck's sake!'

'The time for sorry is over as far as Bill's concerned, Sam. Anyway, thanks for looking out for me. But, please, if Bill's staff turn up tell them he's not to come near me. At least he won't turn up today whilst I'm here, I'll be gone by dusk. Right?'

Yeah, God yeah, Sook. Even if Arlene pulls out, I wouldn't ask you to stay after 7. In fact, I did kind of wonder if your only reason for wanting the early shifts right now had to do with the weather.'

Sookie put her breezy smile back on her face and set to work mopping tables before the first of the day's diners arrived. But her positive mood was entirely deflated. She definitely wasn't stopping at the old house now, she'd go straight back to Shreveport and lock herself in. Maybe Eric would be around? He seemed to have enjoyed Casablanca, expressing the view that Bogart would have made a first-rate vampire. Perhaps she could interest him in The Big Sleep?

Lunch was pretty quiet, barring a rather nasty encounter with Maxine Fortenberry who had quite strenuously contested the freshness of the cheesecake. But, as Lafayette pointed out, only after she'd finished it.

'Bitch is looking for free dessert! Her own fucking version of a meal-deal!' He'd said this just loud enough for Maxine to hear as she flounced out, primping her hair and leaving no tip. Things began to really pick up around 4, though. It was the weekend, after all, and most of Bon Temps seemed to very much fancy an early beer. Sookie realised she was not going to finish by 5. Please, she prayed, just let Arlene be here by 7.

'Arlene rushed through the back door at 7.20, throwing her bag into Sam's office and trying to flatten down her crumpled shorts.

'Jeeeez, I'm so sorry guys. That kid Jessica was supposed to turn up by 6.30. Floats along at 7, not a care in the world, and immediately starts rummaging for the cookies. Sweet Jesus, she's an angel with the kids an' all, but she sure takes some fucking liberties.'

'No worries, Arlene. Really, I know this shift is a bit of a bitch for you. Thanks again for covering.'

Sookie gave her friend a quick kiss and rushed out to the car. She was being paranoid. The sun was just going down and Bill was hardly likely to make it his first priority to attend Merlotte's in order to hassle her. Still, she couldn't get out of there fast enough and in her agitated state of mind (which was pretty irrational, she acknowledged that) she was relieved not to find Bill's limo parked up outside her place. She took a moment to get herself together before turning off the engine and heading for the door. She'd noticed as she'd pulled up a skinny young girl in a bright green tank top hovering next to the truck still parked up a little way down the avenue. She was just about to punch in the security code to the front door when the woman shouted to her, running across the parking lot.

'Excuse me, miss. I wonder if you could help me?'

Sookie smiled and turned fully to face the stranger who looked mightily flustered, it had to be said.

'My van has a flat tyre and my boyfriend's off at that old saw mill, you know the one they're renovating just outside Bon Temps? He's working on the project and I really thought he'd be back by now. My phone's gone flat. Could you ring him for me? I've been waiting best part of an hour. Could be he's gone off for some beers and I need to drive to my sister's. Should have been there an hour ago, actually, and she's going to be frantic. Can't ring her either! Can't believe I'm so dumb.'

This was delivered in a rush of desperation, the girl barely taking a breath and her eyes pleading with Sookie for help. Sookie probed the girl's mind. It was a buzz of anxiety, not much coming through but worry about someone called Clay and would he ever get here.

'Of course! Look, you make the call. God, I hope he answers! Poor you!'

Sookie handed over her mobile phone and watched as the lady pressed the numbers frantically, then spoke in another desperate rush.

'Honey! Look, where the hell are you? Oh Christ, never mind. I've got a flat tyre. Yes, yes, I know. Great! Oh, could you hurry? Yes. Love you!'

She handed back the phone and beamed with gratitude.

'As expected, he's down at Mo's bar. He's gonna be about twenty minutes, I guess. I can wait in the truck. Thank you so much!'

'Why wait in the truck? Don't you guys live just there?'

'Mmm? Oh, no. We're just visiting ...friends for a few days. Clay had this project to work on in Bon Temps – we're actually from out of town. Our hosts have been out all Goddamn day and I don't have a spare key, so I'm pretty much stuck in the street.'

'No way! Look, there's a real wind getting up. It'll probably be pouring down in two minutes. Come inside. I'll make us coffee.'

Sookie turned to the door as Debbie gave a sly smile. How fucking easy! As Sookie pushed in the security code, Debbie registered the numbers: 4735.

'You're an angel! Sorry to be so pushy, but do you mind if I use your phone again? I'll just text Clay, let him know where I'll be. What apartment are you? He can buzz the intercom, right?'

Eric was clambering out of his coffin, fuzzy with the need for blood. He had a couple of bottles ready by the microwave and he moved dopily to fix his meal. As he imbibed the warm liquid, his senses began to sharpen and he became aware of the voices in Sookie's apartment. More importantly, his nostrils flared at the _smell_: werewolf. He cleared his head and focused.

'This woman is, like, 'the cheesecake is off!' But she'd eaten the whole fucking lot!'

Oh, tell me about it! I once worked at this place...'

Eric tuned out the conversation from above. There was a noise in the hall way downstairs. Heavy footsteps plodded past Eric's apartment and up the remaining flight to Sookie's floor.

Sookie was surprised to hear a knock. No-one had buzzed the intercom and she figured Eric would only just be waking up. She pulled open the door a fraction of an inch and peered out into the gloom of the landing. Oh shit. That face, the curly auburn hair, only too recognisable from this close range. This was one of the weres from the bar...

The door was forced back, flinging Sookie against the wall. Clay grabbed her shirt and jerked her forward, his right fist swinging back for the punch.

A flash through the door. For an instant, the apartment was a blur of frantic motion. Then calm. Eric surveyed the damage. The were-girl's neck and spine were broken. The remains of Clay Fairlee were mainly splattered up the kitchen wall. Sookie lay on her back like a broken doll. Eric kneeled down to her, stroking her hair out of her face. Her nose and mouth were bloody, her left eye and cheek already starting to bruise. Her shirt had risen up above her navel and Eric smoothed it down, tucking it into her shorts before scooping her up in his arms and carrying her to his apartment.

He laid her gently on the bed he never had cause to use. He wished it had soft sheets, a pillow, a thick warm quilt. He raised her head and placed a cushion from his sofa beneath her. Her nose and lips still bled and her eye and cheek were swelling. Her breath came in quick, throaty rasps. He would have to heal her. He stood back, his hand shaking almost uncontrollably as his raised his wrist to his mouth. He was desperate to feed Sookie, to feel his life-blood merge with hers, but not like this. He stilled himself, thinking about the implications for their fragile, tentative friendship of what he was about to do. Then he looked again at her swollen, bloodied face and he bit hard.

Sookie was unconscious and unresponsive, but a few drops still trickled through and that was enough. Her mouth puckered to his flesh and she began to suck. Eric knelt and gazed at her pale lips moving in a sweet, slow pull. He moaned and laid his head on the cushion next to her. After a few moments, she gasped, her eyes fluttering half open before closing gently again. Her breathing now was steady and deep. She was sleeping. Eric moved on to the naked mattress beside her and closed her in his arms.

A few hours later, Sookie's eyes flew wide open; she sat bolt upright, screaming. Eric leapt from the bed and knelt beside her.

'Sookie, Sookie, it's OK. It was the weres, the man and that girl, remember? They've gone, Sookie, it's OK.'

Sookie blinked and nodded, bringing her hands up to her face and touching it tenderly.

'What the..? I thought...'

'I healed you, Sookie. You've taken my blood. I'm sorry, I had no choice – sweetheart, you were a mess.'

'No, no. Thank you. I know. At least...'

Sookie looked lost, distant. 'It's just, drinking your blood...'

'Sookie, please, it's nothing. It won't harm you, you're safe with me. Look at me.' Eric took her face in his hands, his thumbs stroking her forehead. 'Just as a friend, there was nothing else I could do. I meant to heal you, that is all. Please, trust me, sookie. You have to rest. There's something I must do, but I won't leave you for long and then ... well, we need to work something out. I don't think you can stay here.'

'Home. I want to go home.'

'No, I don't mean you can't stay _here_ with _me_, I mean that even your own apartment almost certainly isn't safe...'

'Home. To Gran's. I want to go home...'

'Well, OK. Wherever that is, I'll take you there. Sleep, Sookie. I'll be back soon. I'll lock the door but I'll leave you the key, I'm not shutting you in, OK? But please, wait till I get back. I'll take you to your Gran's, you'll be safe. Sleep, baby.'

Eric fetched the key and as he pressed it into her hand, she was already sleeping.

The two dead wolves in Sookie's apartment certainly presented a dilemma and one that required some pretty fast thinking, to which Eric was fortunately no stranger. It was gone midnight. Presumably the rest of the pack would start to miss their two comrades by morning and they'd probably head straight for Sookie's. He had to dispose of this mess and get Sookie to a safe place before sunrise and his own incapacitation. His first violent Viking instinct was to take the bodies to New Orleans and throw them in bloody pieces through the pack leader's window. Not helpful. The swamps were his best option and he'd need to fly, but he was considerably weakened after giving Sookie his blood when he'd been subsisting on that synthetic shit for months. No doubt his progress would be much slower than he'd like. He threw the weres over his shoulders and leapt through the heavy fire doors, over the rail and into the night.

It was raining heavily. The bodies became quickly sodden and weighed Eric down uncomfortably as he glided over the Louisiana swamps looking for a convenient spot. He chose a place well away from the scattered boat houses and let his burden drop slickly down into the slime. Fuck, he was exhausted. He landed on a piece of scrub land and mopped the rain out of his eyes. He would have to feed, and feed properly. It was a crazy risk, but there was no way otherwise that he would get back to Shreveport in time to transport Sookie to her 'home' (where was that, he wondered? Hopefully not fucking Georgia) before dawn. There was a small town he'd flown over just to the east and he just hoped it was well-populated enough for some poor soul to be wandering about in the early hours. There was a young guy walking very unsteadily down his driveway. No good. The last thing Eric needed was alcohol in his system from some drunk's blood. He hovered high and spotted another, older man walking quickly down a side street gabbling into his phone. Eric waited until he'd finished his call and swooped down. The guy barely had a moment to clock what was happening before he was staring deep into ice-blue eyes.

'You will remember nothing of the next ten minutes. You will resume your journey and will believe that you simply stopped off to pee...'

Eric dragged the man into an alley and sank in his fangs, taking just enough for sustenance before pricking his finger and healing the man's wounds. As the man wondered off in a daze, Eric began to run down the alley, strong and fresh, and was about to take flight when a spasm of shock and pain brought him to his knees. Sookie. She'd taken his one thousand year old blood and his presence inside her was white hot with fear. Eric struggled to his feet and with a supreme effort of will blocked out the terror, forcing his anger to take possession of his mind and body. Fuelled by pure, murderous fury, he shot into the night sky.

The door to his apartment was swinging open, the lock busted. He walked numbly to his bedroom, to the bare mattress, to the cushion that still bore the imprint of Sookie's head. He turned and walked out. He felt nothing now. No emotion. He was a pure force of nature, a killing machine, headed for New Orleans.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

_New Orleans October 2011_

The two vampires were chained in silver to the pipe running the length of the back wall of Marcus' basement. The male was barely conscious; deep lacerations marked his face and chest. The female was sitting straight, glaring ahead, her mouth a thin curl of contempt. She had spoken not one word since the pack leader and five of his strongest men had finally succeeded in tying her down, and uttered not one murmur of pain either. Marcus was seated on a chair slightly tilted against the wall opposite, smoking nonchalantly. A huge grey wolf sat next to him, licking its front paws.

'Wondered how long it'd take you to get here, Pamela. We've been working on him for hours. What took you so long, honey?'

Silence.

'Otherwise engaged, trying to stave off the inevitable, bravely standing by your noble king?'

Nothing.

'You know, I've always been curious as to what you fangers really feel when your makers suffer. Do you feel what they feel? When Cooter started to claw the skin slowly from Eric's chest, did you feel that, Pam? When we lashed his face with silver, what was that like for you?'

Pam's fangs ran out. She stayed mute.

'Oh look at you! You getting horny for me, Pam? Would you like a taste? Have you ever tasted were blood? Only I understand it is not very appealing to the vampire palate. I understand, in fact, that in relatively young vampires, such as yourself, it can cause convulsions and even death.'

Marcus walked slowly over to Pam, pulled a small blade from his pocket and made a knick in his wrist. He grasped her hair and pulled her head back savagely, holding his wrist over her mouth so that a couple of drops of blood slipped in before Pam managed to retract her fangs and close her lips. She coughed violently and her body spasmed for a second before slumping down.

'Oh, I guess there's some truth to that old wives' tale, then. That's very good to know. That could come in _extremely_ useful.'

He bent down and ripped open Pam's shirt, beckoning to the wolf.

'There you go, Cooter. You must be getting bored. A new, blank canvass for you to work on.'

The dog padded over, growling softly, and stretched his claws out high. Pam sent a silent message to her maker, praying he had senses left to hear: We will not be defeated.

_New Orleans October 2012 _

Eric fell to his knees just beyond the high metal fence separating him from Marcus' property. He could sense Sookie in there, but she didn't seem to be in any pain and although highly anxious, she was not afraid. He smiled.

'Stay strong, Sookie. I will be with you.'

The sun was just nudging over the horizon, searing his flesh and making him retch. He scrambled desperately at the dirt, digging just deep enough to allow himself to sink beneath the cool earth.

Sookie was pacing Marcus' basement, agitated but strangely calm given the circumstances. She tried the door again. Yes, of _course_ it was still locked. _Obviously_ it was still locked. She growled and kicked the wooden chair that was tilted against the wall; to her enormous surprise it flew high across the room, breaking one of its legs on landing. She giggled at her own strength. Vampire blood! Jesus, no, she'd better calm down. A commotion like that was not conducive to maintaining her safety, assuming her safety was in any way assured at the present moment. She breathed deeply, counted to ten, and resumed pacing.

She realised she could hear voices from the room above, and quite distinctly. The vampire blood again? Strange, she'd taken Bill's a few times but it had never heightened her strength or her senses to this degree. She stopped still and listened carefully.

'I'm not disputing your judgement, Marcus, but we have to at least plan for the possibility that Compton doesn't surrender the vampire. What the hell do we do with the girl?'

'You know there's only one option there, Liam. We can't just let her go skipping back to Shreveport. Our position would be five times weaker than it is already, with three weres dead at the hands of that fucker and Clay and Debbie AWOL. Yeah – "oh look, Mr King, we can kidnap your telepath pet, but it's OK, because if you don't play ball you can have her back again good as new". '

'Marcus, and again I mean no disrespect, but I'm not sure if most of the pack really knew that this was on the cards.'

'Then they will learn not to be so Goddamn stupid. Anyhow, Liam, it will not come to that. Pam is a thorn in Compton's side. She's loyal to Northman, she hates her king, and why Compton didn't kill her when he had the chance will remain a fucking mystery to me for so long as I draw breath. We will have Pam.'

'And then what, boss? Seriously, no, don't look at me like that – what exactly do we do when we have her? Stake her? Or silver her to within an inch of her undead life, sit back and wait for Northman to break down the fucking door?'

'Yep, you got it. If and when her maker returns, we'll have the both of them. Northman will hardly be strong after six months in exile. He's ostracised from every vampire community, he's been deprived of everything that made him what he was. If we stay sharp, stay focused, we will take him, even without the benefit of Cooter's... special skills. And then, remember what I said about the need to be strong in relation to our sheriff? He's planning a move; like I said, war will come. What if we were to offer him Eric Northman? Northman might well jump at the opportunity to join forces against Compton, especially given that every Louisiana sheriff except that moron Franklin Mott is still loyal to Northman, and therefore would be loyal to Edgington in any attempted coup. It won't be like last time – Edgington won't be reliant on a motley crew of mercenary vamps to fight his battle. He'll have an army of sheriffs, the vampires who owe them allegiance, and all of this will be headed by the oldest vampire in the southern United States. We will hand Edgington his winning card, Liam. And then – welcome to the new world order!'

'Yeah, well...sounds fucking brilliant, if it works, Marcus. Just thinking, though, maybe you could have made all this a little bit clearer to the rest of us?'

Sookie sank to the floor. Her life, then, depended upon Bill's willingness to sacrifice one of his most able vampires for her sake, for the sake of a woman he'd been prepared to enslave to the Queen of Louisiana. A woman he'd seduced purely for that purpose. Maybe he'd loved her? He'd protested as much, begged her not to leave, been seemingly beside himself with grief at their parting and then, following her capture by Sophie-Anne, he'd risked his life to save her with no expectation of anything in return. Oh yeah, and Tara had told her that according to Franklin Mott he'd then gone back and chopped off Sophie-Anne's head. If this was true... well, Sookie had no option but to believe it _might_ be true or she would die of pure despair in this rancid basement before the weres even got a look in. She curled up into a foetal position and drifted to sleep. She'd believe it. Bill loved her. She'd be free.

She jerked awake, confused for a moment, then afraid, then suddenly deadly calm. No, she would not die here, nor would she wait like a passive dumb female to be a rescued by a perfidious vampire. She jumped up and resumed pacing. She _would_ get out. Or else she would die _trying. _She was not going to be a timid, human pawn in this brutal, vengeful drama. She went to the door and pulled it again. Yes, _obviously_ it was still locked. She snarled in frustration and yanked again with all her strength and... the door wrenched open. She stood stupefied, gazing at her hand, at the door, and then at the astonished were staring at her in the corridor. Without pausing for thought, Sookie grabbed the guard by the neck and smashed his head against the wall – once, twice, three times. He crumpled to the floor and she kicked him through the door of the cell. She had to plan her next move carefully. At the end of the corridor was a heavy metal door, certainly her best bet. She could _smell_ the fresh air beyond that door and she thanked the dear Lord for Eric's blood. Pulling its heavy bolt slowly back, she edged it open, cringing at its reluctant whines and creaks. She found herself in a basement yard, a flight of steps leading up to the lawn. Thankfully, no lights were on in any of the rooms at this side of the house so she went unseen as she softly climbed the steps and scanned the grounds. Again, she muttered a silent prayer of thanks for that vampire's sweet blood since her eyes, keen even without this uncanny enhancement, could pick out every detail of the terrain even in the dying light of day. There was nobody in the vicinity, but she had to remember the weres' ability to sniff her out and their instinct for the hunt. The next minute or so would almost certainly determine whether Sookie Stackhouse lived or died. She ran like hell. The perimeter fence was pretty high but she scaled it with relative ease, stumbling only slightly as she hit the ground. She paused for breath before continuing at a slower pace; she was unsure of the terrain and needed to get some sense of her bearings.

Eric stirred in the ground. His mouth was full of dirt and his body hummed with a sense of Sookie, much closer now. She was no longer in the house. Where were they taking her? He clawed his way out of the soil, and then he saw her. She was jogging away from the fence, looking around her as if to plot out the best course through the trees. He resisted the temptation to cry out her name, but neither could he simply approach her from behind, unannounced. It would shock her half to death, no doubt. Instead, he flashed forward in a long arc so that he arrived about twenty metres in front of her and when he stopped, he held out a hand, the other pressed to his lips to indicate she must not cry out. Sookie stopped dead. Her face registered fear, then confusion, then sheer, joyous relief. She ran to him and threw her arms around him, gasping, almost sobbing.

'Sookie, I simply ... you fucking marvellous girl.' He kissed her hair and hugged her tight. 'Listen, we have to move to fast and I need you to trust me. Climb on to my back.' He knelt down and put his arms behind her knees. 'Yes, you heard me! Hold on, close your eyes. Trust me, Sookie.'

With Sookie clinging to his neck, Eric took three long strides forward and the two of them took flight.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N - I've altered this a little to make the ending slightly more ambiguous. But still, rated M for adult content. Hope you enjoy! **

Chapter 12

Eric and Sookie soared for hours over shifting landscapes: sultry swamp-land, fertile plains, high and jagged mountains. Sookie had conquered her fear after only a few moments of flight and was looking down enraptured by the glorious spectacle of this ever-changing theatre of natural beauty. Her enhanced vision meant that in the black of the night she saw with Eric's eyes, spotting the bear cubs sleeping huddled to their mother, the sly dash of the fox as it sought its prey. As Eric set them down in a forest clearing bounded by rolling hills and rapid little streams that Sookie could _smell _in all of their naked purity, the two of them clung together gasping in exhilaration.

'Where are we?' Sookie recovered the power of speech and gazed in wonder at the vampire.

'Who cares!' He felt Sookie tense slightly in his arms. 'We're in Tennessee. About thirty miles south- east of Gatlinburg.'

'Really? Well, that's quite something, Eric. From a dingy were basement to the Smoky Mountains! I've dated a vampire, I know y'all are fucking crazy, but this is something else!'

Sookie could have bitten her tongue off. There was that confession again, or as a good as. She held her breath, waiting for Eric to speak.

'Well, I can't imagine Bill Compton whisking you off on a surprise flight to Gatlinburg, but please correct me if I'm wrong.' He said it gently, with an undertone of humour and acceptance that dispelled Sookie's worries.

'You know about me and Bill.' She said it as a fact, not a question. She was not going to try to be coy about this.

'Yes, of course. I heard you say it. I also know, Sookie, that you didn't mean to say it. It was a sigh, almost, that you gave out in response to _my_ pain. You identified with my loss over Pam because you know what real hurt feels like. You know this because of Bill, because of whatever happened between you. Sookie, I can't claim total ignorance here and I won't deceive you. I knew about Bill's relationship with a Bon Tempts bar maid,' Sookie gasped, angry now at what he was insinuating. 'No, I don't mean it like that. It was widely understood amongst us that Bill had fallen in love with a Bon Temps girl, a human. We didn't really give it a second's thought. Bill has always been a bit of loner, Sookie. None of us really connected with him and it was just a point of interest that this vampire had a crush on some human woman. Don't take this the wrong way, but the vampires in the district had no interest in you. Most of us didn't even know your name. I certainly had no idea who you were. But after Bill took the throne, after he killed Sophie-Anne, there was a lot of talk about his motives. Rumour had it he hadn't just been a malcontent member of the monarchy's inner circle eager to usurp the queen, but that he'd committed treason because of his commitment to his human lover. Sookie, I have to say, painful though it might sound to you, this was absolutely incomprehensible to the vampire community. And the whole debacle was very quickly covered up by the Authority. They span the line that Sophie-Anne had been facilitating the dealing of vampire blood in Louisiana and that's Bill's actions, whilst a little extreme, were justifiable in terms of the Authority's long-term best interests. The rumours about you continued to make the rounds, but nobody was really that convinced that a vampire would risk his life for the sake of a _human_. But Sookie, when you said...about Bill, and I realised it was _you_ the whole state of Louisiana had been talking about as that bar maid from Bon Temps...' He clutched her to him, running his hands through her hair and breathing her scent in deeply. 'I understood then, Sookie.'

She pulled back slightly and raised her eyes to his, full of questions and uncertainties. She saw only a true, fierce affirmation of longing and understanding. She placed her head on his chest and he stroked her shoulders in a gentle, swirling motion. She moved her hand shyly to touch his face and he cupped her head, raising it to him and tracing his fingers through her hair, down to her eyes, cheeks, lips and neck. She gasped and met his steady gaze.

'Sookie?'

She nodded, drawing him to her as his lips pressed to her mouth and his tongue gently sought a response. She groaned and pulled him deeper, pushing her tongue against his and moving her hands across his shoulders and back. He lifted her up, then laid her on the soft moss of the forest floor and, lying by her, stroked her cheek again.

'Sookie?'

Once more she nodded and met his gaze sweetly and steadily. He bent to kiss her, trailing his hands down her body and taking in every subtle register of her response. He cupped her left breast and ran his thumb over a nipple which bloomed under his touch. She sat up slightly to pull off her blouse and bra, and she blushed as he groaned and pushed his mouth to her, kissing her flesh, taking her nipples and sucking, licking, letting his tongue linger until Sookie was crying his name and undulating slowly beneath him in a subtle response to his movements. He lifted her hips to remove her sandals, trousers and panties in a rapid movement that left her suddenly feeling exposed and hesitant. Eric, as he urgently peeled off his own shoes, shirt and jeans, registered the shift in her emotions and made a considerable effort to slow and steady his response.

'Are you OK, Sookie? Trust me. It is never too late to say that you don't want this.'

Sookie smiled shyly, and lowered her eyes, sweet Jesus, this woman...he swallowed hard.

'I want it, Eric. I want you. But I might not be quite what you're used to... I might not be very good at this, please don't laugh!'

Eric gazed at Sookie's red, embarrassed, nervous face and was at a total loss as to what to say. Don't _laugh_? At this sublimely beautiful woman opening up her body to him with such passion and trust? What the hell had happened to her that _this_ was her default position when it came to making love?

He kissed her softly and rested his hand low on her stomach.

'Sookie. You are perfection to me. You have been since I very first saw you and if I don't bring you to the highest peak of pleasure tonight, then I'll hide _myself_ in shame because you deserve the very best of me, and all you need to do for tonight, sweetheart, is to forget yourself, and to feel no fear. Trust me, Sookie.'

She responded by bringing her lips to his and burying her hands in his hair, raising up her hips, slightly parting her legs. Eric moaned and moved down his hand to touch between her thighs and stroke her where she was so hot, wet and ready. His finger slipped inside her easily at first, but he soon realised that she was still a little tense, and that she felt so small clenching against him. She was far less experienced then he'd thought; Eric breathed in deeply and controlled his most urgent, primal instincts. He moved down her body, kissing every inch of her breasts and stomach as he continued to move in slow circles inside her, going deeper, preparing her for him. As his tongue finally reached where his hand was stroking her to her climax, she let out a long cry, fraught with need and desire, and shuddered as his lips sucked and kissed her there, drawing a delicate balance between flickering touches and lingering, firmer pulls on her tender flesh. Her back arched suddenly as she tightened around his finger and he looked to her face, thrown back in abandon, eyes closed and lips spilling out a stream of inarticulate sweet sighs and cries. The angst, fear and desperation of all his months of exile fell away in that moment of pure joy at seeing and feeling his lover come for him.

He moved back up her body to breathe in her sounds and scent, covering her mouth with a hungry kiss, barely able to contain his want as he placed himself at her threshold, feeling her lips part as he moved in. He pushed slowly, feeling her stretch, then paused as he sensed her body jolt slightly beneath him. She wouldn't be able to take the whole of him this first time, he'd realised that when he'd first begun to explore her, but it was only just registering with her and through his blood in her he felt a stab of fear, and then something like ...a deep and painful frustration, a _shame_ almost, at the limitations of her body. Eric felt a rush of love for her that shocked him in its intensity. He knew then that he would never hurt this woman, never leave her, even if it meant the death of him. He pulled back and met her questioning gaze.

'Sookie, sweetheart, my lover, still your mind, relax for me, I will not hurt you, your pleasure is all I want, and I will not take anything that you do not give.'

He moved his lips slowly over her cheeks and forehead, raising himself higher to give her space to move and become accustomed to him, to find her own limit. As she relaxed again around him, he moved forward, letting her body speak to him, taking his cues from her sounds and movements. She murmured his name again, again, again, and as he increased speed, carefully controlling the depth of his thrusts inside her, he felt the shift from within. He felt her open herself completely to him, stretching out to take the _whole_ of him and thrusting up her hips to meet his. He sobbed her name and moved deep inside, losing himself at the very core of her being. His blood in her sang to him. They came together, calling to each other, clinging to each other, as if the slightest space between them now would be death to them.

Sookie raised Eric's head to look at him and kiss him, to let him know with her eyes and mouth what he had done for her. A single red trail ran down his cheek.

'Sookie, how have I lived before now?' He muttered, almost imperceptibly, and without his blood inside her she wouldn't have heard. 'I love you.'


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N - A chapter from Pam's POV, which is always fun to write! This is Pam's 'punishment' - being made to visit Fangtasia for the first tme since Eric's disappearance. It's now run by the new Sheriff, Franklin, and Pam is not amused... Hope you enjoy, and thanks again for reading! **

Chapter 13

Techno. _Fucking Techno_? So, Franklin had turned Fangtasia into a teenage rave bar. Pam shuddered and pursed her lips in rage and screaming despair as she and Bill handed their coats to the cloak room attendant. Franklin had gutted the place, she noticed, as they walked through into the main bar area through a small vestibule where two vamps in baggy shorts and 'Ibiza Rules' T shirts (I mean, Jesus fucking Christ, have _some_ standards! Pam winced) were arguing about whose turn it was to get the cab home. Very little of Eric's original decor remained except for a couple of posters behind the bar depicting various human celebrities with photo-shopped fangs about to rip into other human celebrities. She'd always liked the one of Jerry Seinfeld about to have a go at Mel Gibson, glad to see that still up there. Memories started to flood back, and Pam drew herself up and snarled inwardly. It would not do for her to lose it here. That was probably what Bill was hoping for, part of the reason he'd brought her along, no doubt. She jostled her way through the crowd of young human and vampire ravers and tried with all her will not to turn and look at the only other remaining feature of the old Fangtasia: the elaborate, gaudy throne on which Eric had been wont to sit whilst being ogled and sighed over by starry-eyed blood bags who'd paid good money just to get a photo with the local celebrity vamp. She knew who'd be on that throne now. She looked at Bill's back as he walked to the bar and gestured for a Tru Blood. If she staked him on the way home, would that be OK? Was there any scenario in which that might not turn out to be an almighty clusterfuck? Bill turned and smiled smoothly. 'Franklin's worked wonders with this sad old Goth joint. Ha, just look at him! I think it kinda suits him, don't you? He pointed behind her and bored his eyes into hers, pretty much ordering her to turn the fuck around and behold the new king of Fangtasia. Pam gritted her teeth and slowly rotated, trying to keep her eyes on the ceiling. But simple curiosity finally got the better of her and she lowered her gaze. What a holy mother-fucking disgrace. She almost laughed. Franklin's skinny framed was dwarfed entirely by a throne made for a 6 foot 5 inch tall vampire whose biceps were wider than the new sheriff's neck. His shifty eyes were scanning the room nervously, his mouth pulled into a sulky pout. He looked like a weasel licking piss off the bathroom floor. Pam set her mouth into a bright smile and turned back to Bill.

'Yes, it's quite a spectacle, isn't it? Good for Sheriff Mott! And there was I thinking he might look like a total fucking twat!'

Bill finally caught Franklin's eye and beckoned him over; the sheriff looked mightily relieved to have an excuse to leave the throne.

'Your majesty! And Pam! What an unexpected delight! I don't think I've had the pleasure of your company, Pamela, since I took over the bar. Do you like what I've done with it?'

He gestured around elaborately and beamed with pride as if he'd transformed a Shreveport vamp bar into fucking Disneyland. Pam nearly punched his fangs down his throat.

'What can I do for you, sir?' He bowed. He actually bowed.

'We have some business to discuss, Franklin. Can we talk in private please?'

The three of them made their way behind the bar to the office where Franklin sat behind the desk in a green leather swivel chair far more suited to his height.

'Have you heard anything about a certain ...incident recently, just off the Shreveport road out of Bon Temps?' Franklin shrugged and shook his head. 'OK, Pam, would you like tell Franklin how you have managed, so spectacularly, to potentially shatter the peace in Louisiana Areas 2 and 5?'

Franklin raised his eyebrows and leaned forward. Pam sighed and delivered in a monotone the Compton-approved version of her violent antics: there'd been a fracas at Merlotte's involving the New Orleans weres; as instructed, Pam played down Bill's involvement transforming him from a unstable, jealous thug into a peaceful diplomat who'd intervened chivalrously to defend a persecuted female; she had been sent by Bill to fetch Sookie back to Bon Temps when she'd driven off, shaking and upset, into a storm; she'd found the girl on the verge of being eaten by the wolves, things had maybe gotten a little out of hand, blah de blah de blah de fucking blah.

'So what do you want _me_ to do?'

'Well, I anticipate that the New Orleans pack will come back at us over this. They are pretty notorious for taking justice into their own hands. Or paws. Ha ha!' Nobody laughed. 'So I wish to conduct a damage limitation exercise. I intend to go to Russell Edgington with a peace plan. He can control that pack, he'll stay their hand. Then we go to Marcus, eat humble pie, offer them a pay-off, whatever it takes to keep the peace, within reason obviously. Tomorrow, you'll come with us to the sheriff. Just us three, I don't want over-kill.'

'But why me?' Franklin whined. 'There must be some other vampire you can take. Someone with a bit more clout than me. Someone from the Authority? Maybe Nan?'

Bill rolled his eyes. 'I'm keeping the Authority well out of this, Franklin, which reminds me: do not go blabbing your mouth off. And of course you have to fucking come! This happened just outside Bon Temps, it is obviously a matter of concern to the sheriff of Area 5. Guess what, Franklin, that happens to be you! In this vicinity you are second in command only to me so I suggest you start living up to your job. Also, I have another favour to ask you. Well, it's a command, I'm just trying to be polite. My PR manager tells me it oils the wheels of power,' he beamed at Pam. 'We need to stay here tonight. It isn't safe for us to be passing up and down the Shreveport road twice in a night and then back again tomorrow,' Bill pretended not to hear Pam's snide murmur that it was such a shame his majesty couldn't fly. 'So, fluff out your spare coffins, Franklin, you've got guests! Now, fuck off both of you whilst I ring Edgington.'

'Hello? Your _majesty_? Hello! Mmmm. No, I have heard nothing. Mmmmm. How very sensible. Yes, of course! I would be delighted! About 8, yes. Not at all, it's my pleasure to be of service sir, as always. Yes. Ciao!'

Russell's lips curled slightly into the faintest ghost of a smile.

'Talbot! Talbot, come here. We have an unexpected VIP guest tomorrow, clean out the spare room.'

He ran his fingers over the photograph of his dead Queen and his smile broadened. Well, this was unexpected. But time waits for no-one, you had to seize the day. It was time to move.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N - Back to Sookie who, whilst Eric sleeps, tries to come to terms with his extraodinary declaration. Has the man lost his senses? Then Sookie starts to notice some subtle parallels between Bill and Eric that leave her very much questioning the motives of her hyper-intense new lover. And then, the penny finally drops as she remembers the conversation she overheard whilst locked in Marcus' basement. Remember, she doesn't even know Eric's last name at this point and she was too concerned with her own survival to pay too much attention when Marcus was explaining his plans for Pam. So this is some moment for Sookie :) **

Chapter 14

Eric was sleeping now a few feet beneath where Sookie lay in their mossy clearing. Before taking to the ground, he'd given her his blood again. On the assumption that at some point they'd have to return to Shreveport, she needed to be strong especially since during the day, without Eric, she'd be especially vulnerable. Also, Eric's blood was as sustaining to Sookie as a three course meal; in spite of having eaten nothing for over twenty four hours, Sookie felt no hunger. The sun was high in the sky now, she'd been dozing through most of the day, looking forward to dusk and Eric's return eagerly, but nervously.

It was unsettling how quickly things were moving. Only a few days ago she'd barely known Eric except as her courteous, intense, disquieting, probably European (she'd decided on Danish) vampire neighbour. And now he was declaring eternal love on the basis of _one night_. Sookie didn't have that much Romantic experience, but she was pretty sure this wasn't usual behaviour, not for a human let alone a vampire. Bill had been pretty damn weirdly intense, but ...bloody hell, this was of an entirely different order of magnitude. Too fast, wasn't it? Too much, way too soon.

He was attractive, certainly; he was beautiful, and certainly one of the most charismatic men she'd ever known. Overwhelmingly so. In her apartment, when he'd visited after the were attack, his presence had filled that small space with a potent sexual energy that was almost tangible. And he was an exceptional lover; his effect on her had been almost shattering, as if he had taken her apart and re-configured her into... _his_ creature. In that context, in the aftermath of their love-making, as her body pulsed with desire, his words had shaken her but had seemed also natural, somehow; and it was only a shadow of wariness that had stopped her responding in kind. Had he tried to _glamour_ her, and very near succeeded? Then she remembered the fierce gleam in his eye the night when she'd suggested he stay to watch the film. He was well aware of the effect he had on women. He probably had them fighting over him every night of the week. She shifted uneasily, trying not to think of how many lovers he must have had, and how easily he'd had her. She sat up and pulled her knees to her chest. She'd been virtually begging for it. The force of her desire had been shocking. The only other time she recalled anything remotely like it, and then it was not nearly so powerful or immediate, was with Bill.

Eric loved her? He couldn't imagine life without her – after, presumably, centuries already on this earth and after _one night_ with her? Bill had said he loved her; he'd said a whole lot of things whilst plotting to deliver her as a gift to a crazy vampire queen who'd apparently fancied adding another bit of exotica to her collection of human pets. With the benefit of that particularly toxic piece of hindsight, Sookie had spent many a sleepless night reviewing every aspect of her time with Bill and concluding that pretty much all of it had been nothing but a sad sham. Even their first meeting now had the appearance of a total scam. She recalled the cold February night when Bill had appeared at her house just after she'd returned from her night shift. She'd peered through the spy hole in her back door and seen a stranger, tall and dark-haired, staring intently straight ahead and smiling slightly as if he could see her through the wood. She'd probed his mind and felt...nothing. This was a vampire. She figured it was safe to open the door a fraction since he'd need an invite to actually get in.

'I'm so sorry to bother you at such a late hour, miss,' he spoke with a deep, lazy Southern drawl, 'but I don't know if you've noticed – the door to your out-house is swinging open.' Sookie stared, confused – oh, out-house! He meant her gardening shed. He stood back and gestured towards where the door of her shed, usually padlocked and bolted, was indeed wide open, creaking in the low breeze. Sookie ran over, bemused as to why she hadn't noticed this when she'd parked her car up. She gazed into the shed, flicking on the dim light and threw up her hands in horror.

'The tools! The mower! I don't believe this. Who would break into a decrepit garden shed to pinch a bunch of ancient tools? Well, apart from the mower – that was brand new last summer. Aawww, Jason's gonna be furious...'

'Well, not with _you_, surely! What could you have done? That door's been firmly forced, it was obviously locked beforehand. Jason is... your husband?'

'Hahaha! No, my brother. He doesn't live here, but he usually does my garden. He bought the bloody mower.'

'So you live here alone?'

Sookie raised her eyes warily. 'Yeeees. And...?'

'Well then, the way to look at it is that at least they did not break into your house. You have lost nothing of real value and you are safe.'

Sookie sighed. Vampires certainly did not understand the concept of economy. 'Those tools cost...oh, whatever. You're right, it could've been worse. I guess there's no point trying to secure the door. The tools have bolted! Thanks, anyway. It's good of you to have called. You live nearby?'

The vampire gestured across the cemetery. 'Over there, the old house. I just moved in. My name is Bill Compton, m'am, that house is my old family home. I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance.' He gave a little bow of the head and made to leave.

'Wait! My name's Sookie Stackhouse. Pleased to meet you, too. We're each other's closest neighbours, I guess. If there's anything you need, Bill...'

Another small bow. 'I'll be sure to bear it in mind... Sookie.'

Dear God, the way he'd said her name! He drawled it out, deep and low, and managed to invest a name that she'd always considered perfectly ridiculous with something like...pure, naked sex. Sookie giggled nervously and flushed. 'Well, yeah. Have a good night! Thanks again for...'

He'd gone. Sookie gazed over the cemetery to the direction of the old Compton house, her breathing slightly raised. 'Ha! Pull yourself together, Soooookie! What the hell _was_ that?' Sookie wandered back in doors, locking and double bolting the back door. Two days later, she received a delivery from Shreveport's biggest hard ware store: an entire collection of brand new gardening tools including a top-of-the-range mower she doubted Jason would even be able to drive. Well, well.

Sookie had insisted on paying Bill back as much as she could afford. When they began to date, she would never allow him to buy dinner and when she was able to, she made him let her pay for both of them. She felt, even back then, rather compromised by this extravagant gift and after Bill's multiple betrayals later on it came to seem to Sookie as an exceptionally cynical gesture; not only that, she had wondered, and she continued to wonder, whether the theft of the tools in the first place had been a set-up.

And Eric? Why was he living in that beat-up apartment, seemingly so isolated from the rest of vampire society? Contrary to the popular mythology, vampires were extremely social creatures, seeking out their own kind and sticking with them. Bill had sought out solitude virtually in her own back yard when he'd moved to Bon Temps. And here was Eric, another uncommon loner, living just beneath her, asking all those questions, and looking at her like he'd found the fucking Holy Grail that time of their first meeting...

Who _was_ this vampire? Sookie drifted into a restless sleep; half-formed impressions, snatches of conversation, started to mill around in her fitful dreaming. She suddenly awoke with a cry, shaking, trying to stand. Those two weres talking in the room above the basement. She'd been kidnapped so they could trade her off for... Pam? And her maker would come, they wanted _him_, not her. Pam's maker was powerful, angry. He'd turn against Bill, that was their plan. Another war, lead by 'the most powerful vampire in the Southern united states.' A vampire named Northman. That was Pam's maker.

_Eric_ Northman.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N I'm really sorry not to have been able to update for a while as I've been away, but thanks for your continuing support and encouragement! x**

Chapter 15

How, Pam wondered, can a vampire be unable to drive in the dark? And how, specifically, could a vampire ascend to the throne of Louisiana and be unable to drive in the dark? It seemed to her to be a mark of such shameful feebleness that she was amazed - fundamentally, and on a daily basis – that Bill could even tie his shoe laces and leave his house, let alone govern the state. Then again, she mused as she nudged the limo over a hundred on the clear New Orleans freeway, her boss' peculiar vehicular night-blindness did have its advantages.

'Slow down!' Franklin whined from the back. 'The fuel warning light's on, for one thing, if you hadn't _noticed_.'

Pam rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to tell this ridiculous figure of a vampire sheriff to simply fuck right off, but Bill gave her a sharp, reprimanding glance.

'He's right. We want to get to Edgington's without mishap, whether that be a minor encounter with the law or a highway pile-up. And I think there's a garage about a kilometre away, so make sure you pull in.'

Pam took the corner into the garage forecourt just a little too fast, deliberately, and relished the sheriff's nervous squeal. As she stalked towards the kiosk, she prayed they stocked Tru Blood. She hadn't been able to stomach drinking that synthetic travesty at Fangtasia and that had been all that was on offer. To think, Eric Northman's bar reduced to kowtowing to the Authority's latest PR fad: 'Drink no human! Spread no fear!' Shit and fucking kittens, virtually every human that had walked into Fangtasia in Eric's day had been desperate to open their veins according to their particular sexual predilection. It was all consensual; dark and edgy at times, no doubt, but Eric would never have tolerated blood abuse on his premises. Pam was making a supreme effort to control her hunger and her rage as she strolled, a picture of genteel femininity, up to the check-out. The familiar squat little red bottles were lined up in the fridge behind the attendant. Thank the little infant Jesus and all the fucking saints.

Pam was about to speak when she caught, in the corner of her eye, a face on the TV screen above the kiosk. A blonde woman was smiling to camera holding a yellow beach ball. It was a photo, a slightly blurred image but recognisable to Pam without her having to read the caption beneath. Sookie Stackhouse. The shot switched to a local reporter stationed outside a nondescript, run-down apartment block. The caption now read: Jackson Avenue, Shreveport.

'Police were alerted to the disappearance of Miss Stackhouse by her employer, Mr Sam Merlotte, when she failed to turn up for her shift at Merlotte's Bar in Bon Temps. Mr Merlotte claimed that the waitress had been in a highly anxious and distracted state at his bar the previous day and had been in a rush to leave. Miss Stackhouse is believed to have dated a vampire by the name of Bill Compton who caused an incident at Merlotte's recently when, according to witnesses, a rowdy group of men were disrespectful to the missing woman. Police have searched the home of Miss Stackhouse, which is on the top floor of the apartment block behind me. There is evidence of disturbance. The apartment directly below her home is also empty of any occupant and shows evidence of a struggle. The door to that property, police say, had been forced open, as had Miss Stackhouse's. Police have not been able to establish who is the tenant of that property and they have put out an urgent appeal for information.'

'Uh, can I _help_ you?' The cashier was eying Pam with increasing irritation. She promptly paid for the fuel and entirely forgot to order any Tru Blood, as she realised almost as soon as she walked out of the kiosk. She couldn't go back in; Bill might get antsy and come over. The last thing she needed was that infatuated wreck spotting the face of his former lover on the TV news: Sookie Stackhouse, missing presumed..._whatever_. She smoothed her face into a well-practiced expression of passive neutrality and slipped back into the driver's seat.

'Filled up and ready to go,' she murmured as she pulled out of the garage and set off at a heady pace, impervious to Franklin's whines and Bill's impatient, angry stares.

Russell flicked off the TV as his gate security buzzed that the king and his two staff were on the approach to the house. This was quite a turn-up. A man-hunt over two parishes for Bill Compton's delectable former human lover? He'd have to play this to his advantage somehow; no doubt this was behind the king's surprising venture to New Orleans. Some spark of trouble with a pack of hounds was hardly likely to shift him out of his backwater, but that slut was apparently worth the head of his queen... hurriedly, the sheriff took the photograph of Sophie-Anne off his desk and put it in his drawer.

'Your _majesty_, please be seated, what an honour to have the pleasure of your company. If only you'd given us more notice, we could have prepared something quite extraordinary for your evening meal – there's a quarter in the city where Talbot found the most luscious Bolivian boy...'

'Russell. Do I really need to tell you that _Tru Blood_ will be _all_ that we require?'

'Oh of course! And it's just Talbot, you know, he's young... at my age, one barely needs to feed at all. TAAAALBOT! Where the hell is he anyway...?'

'Please, Russell, if we can get down to business?'

'Yeeees, sir. Well. I assume this has something to do with your former lover?'

Pam glanced anxiously at Bill, who looked irritated and not a little offended. 'Sookie Stackhouse is only marginal to this affair and I want her kept out of it. This is between ourselves and the weres. There are no humans involved, even the humans on my own staff are unaware of our visit to you. Humans are always the weakest link.'

Russell raised his eyebrows and gave a slow smile. Jesus, thought Pam. He _knows_. She'd heard the hum of the TV as they'd walked through the front door. He _knows_ the human is missing.

'Indeed, sir. I admire your discretion. What I don't understand is why you think you have anything to fear from this city's were pack. Their numbers are depleted. And thanks to your extraordinary assistant here, they have lost their most vicious attack dog. Indeed, judging by what you told me yesterday, this vampire could quite easily finish the rest of them off single-handedly if they returned to bon Temps.' Russell smiled at Pam. If only he had _her_ on side...

'But it isn't just the new Orleans pack, sheriff. You know very well there is an unusual degree of unity amongst Louisiana weres. If this was any other state, I doubt I'd be troubling you tonight but Marcus commands a good deal of loyalty state-wide. Indeed, it pains me to say it but that were commands more loyalty amongst _his_ kind than I do amongst mine. You know full well how many Louisiana vampires would be only too delighted to an exploit a feud between the monarchy and the weres. What is at issue here, Russell, is peace in my kingdom and not some scrap with a disgruntled pack of dogs in Area 2.'

'I see. You are right, sir, and it was not my inttention to question your judgement. I will gladly smooth your way with the pack; I will visit Marcus before the night is out if you give me the details of your proposal. Now, ah, your refreshments. Where _is_ Talbot? He's addicted to _The Golden Girls_, you know. That's where he'll be. Glued to that shit.' Russell sauntered out to his kitchen and opened three bottles of Tru Blood. No point in warming it. He pulled three small plastic packets out of a drawer and into each bottle he poured one quarter of a gram of powdered silver.

Paste your document here...


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N Thanks for sticking with me, I know it's been a while since I updated as I've been away, but I have a few chapters coming up over the next few days that will start to explain Eric's exile. Thanks for your reviews, do keep them coming. Hope you enjoy!**

Chapter 16

Marcus had been running through the woods for over two hours, but there was no trail to follow any more than there had been yesterday when he'd managed to track the strong scent of the human for about one hundred metres beyond the south side of the perimeter fence before it had disappeared abruptly in to thin air. It was as if Sookie Stackhouse had effervesced into nothing, and Marcus had flirted with the possibility that perhaps this was one of her gifts along with telepathy and an apparent immunity to vampire glamour: perhaps the famous bar maid had simply teleported back to Shreveport. Now, Marcus was simply running for the sake of it. The rhythmic pounding of his paws against the wet grass calmed his body and focused his mind. Debbie and Clay were almost certainly dead – there was no accounting otherwise for their failure to check in since the first, failed abduction of the woman. And Bill Compton must be responsible for their disappearance. This led to another almost unthinkable, but entirely logical conclusion: there was a _spy amongst his pack_. Someone had tipped off Compton, and in response the king had stationed some protection in the apartment beneath his former lover – a vampire guard, judging by the state of the place (that breed was hardly known for making their living spaces homely). Marcus could not begin to come to terms with the implications of any of this, and so he ran on, into the night.

Back in his office, the phone had been ringing off the hook for the last hour. The caller ID registered 'unknown' and since the weres, with the exception of the missing Debbie and Clay, were under strict orders never to take calls for Marcus in his absence the phone continued its plaintive trills until Liam, his nerves shot to bits with impatience and fear, pulled it violently from its cradle.

'_Who is this_?'

'This is Russell Edgington, sheriff of area two, and a very good evening to you also. May I ask to whom I am speaking?'

Liam was thrown right off guard. He had expected maybe Bill Compton, or even Northman; one of the two had to be responsible for Stackhouse's escape.

'This is...Liam Maddison. Marcus isn't here. What do you want, sir?'

'I need to discuss a very important matter with your pack leader, Liam. When do you expect his return?'

'Sir, I have no idea. In Marcus' absence, and... our deputy is also unavailable...so...I am authorised...'

'Oh, no no no no, I must speak with your master, Liam, not one of his doe-eyed little lap-dogs, no offence intended, so please locate your Alpha and inform him that I require his presence at my house before midnight. It concerns your recent – ahh – dispute with my king. What I have to say will be of interest to your pack, to say the least, and I am sure that I can count on you not to fuck this up, Liam?'

'Of course, sir. Count on it.' Liam slammed down the phone and glanced desperately at the weres grouped expectantly around Marcus's desk.

'That was Edgington. He knows something about us and Compton – I don't know what, exactly. Maybe _he_ has the girl? I don't fucking know. But he wants us to meet him tonight. We have to find Marcus. Jesus, this is so way out of my fucking league.'

Dawn Legendre was the pack's best and fastest tracker and taking up Marcus' scent from the south side of the house, she set off at a ferocious pace, pausing every mile or so to howl out a signal to her leader. The trail ran on for miles into the woodland and Marcus had been gone for hours; the were was in despair at the prospect of ever catching him unless he turned and retraced his steps... he couldn't run forever, and perhaps he was already on his way back to New Orleans? Yes, there was hope. Marcus was the Alpha, but Dawn was a good thirty years his junior and had only just reached maturity in the spring; the stamina and strength of a wolf in her first year of shifting meant she could cover twice the ground of her pack leader, and she was female: the potent scent of a young were-bitch would hit Marcus before long, even across the miles he had gained on her. Sure enough, a good fifteen miles ahead on a track that was taking Marcus close to the state line, he stopped dead and put his nose to the air. It was faint, but the air was still and clear, and it was unmistakably the scent of one his pack – female, a hot and compelling, musky odour to the Alpha wolf. He let out a howl and Dawn responded immediately. Marcus turned tracks and raced back to follow the scent and sounds of his young female as she raced forward to meet him, panting and growling. There was no need for either to shift and speak, the communication from Dawn was clear enough: Marcus nodded his head in acknowledgement and the two set off back to New Orleans.

Russell Edgington was pacing his office impatiently, barking instructions to Talbot half in English and half in German. The captives were to be kept chained in silver. They were comatose and would be unlikely to awake without a good dose of human blood to heal them. And even if by some miracle they did awake, they would be in so much pain it was unlikely they'd pose any kind of a threat even if Russell had sat the three of them in front of him and placed wooden stakes in their hands directed squarely at his heart. Still, he was taking no chances, especially with regards to that extraordinary daughter of Eric Northman. Even under the influence of silver poisoning, Pam had still managed to smash her bottle of Tru Blood and make a valiant, if comically clumsy attempt to decapitate the sheriff of area two before slipping into unconsciousness. Russell could hardly restrain a smile; if only he could get that vampire to see sense and come on side! Talbot was assigned the further task of ringing every other sheriff in Louisiana whose loyalty could be relied upon at this crucial juncture. Before morning, Russell anticipated that he would have at his disposal at least three quarters of the vampires of the State, plus pretty much the entire were community if Marcus could be relied upon to pull rank. Compton was right in one respect at least: the Louisiana weres were an unusually united group, and pretty soon they would be profitably united behind himself, as heir apparent to the Louisiana throne.

There was a buzz as the gate security rang through the New Orleans pack. Edgington bided his time, making them wait in his rather cramped ante-room before inviting them in to his office. They were riled up to high heaven and, holy fuck, the stink. A few of them had recently shifted, he could tell; the smell was positively bestial and Russell managed simultaneously to be the very model of courtesy whilst also registering that he found their presence utterly disdainful. The pack accepted his offer to sit, except for Marcus who remained standing, legs apart, arms folded. Oh, look at the dog, thought Russell, posturing like a little would-be chieftain of all he fucking surveys. Still, one must award marks for effort, he surmised.

'Marcus, thank you for attending at such short notice this evening. Though I am sure you will hardly regret it when you hear what I have to say. Bill Compton visited me this evening seeking my help in negotiating peace between yourselves and the monarchy following a recent, erm, fracas in area five. You know the incident to which I am referring, yes?' Marcus nodded, very slowly, very warily. 'The king was concerned, highly anxious in fact, that the misdemeanour of his employee might escalate into a feud between yourselves and the monarchy and his majesty was quite adamant that this should not be permitted to happen, that he was prepared to offer very generous terms in order to ensure the cessation of any hostilities between himself and your formidable pack.'

Russell gestured around the room, smiling benevolently at the assembled weres. Marcus unfolded his arms and stepped forward.

'Sir, if you are attempting to intervene on Compton's behalf then please know that it is not necessary. We are not interested in negotiating peace with your king and, with respect sir, I do not understand why you would be interested in that either. We have already set in motion plans to hold Compton to account for the deaths of three, probably five, of our number. And it was my belief, Sheriff, that our plan would accord with your own long-term ambitions in respect of the Louisiana crown...'

'Quite so, Marcus. Quite so. And it is thus that I have in the most secure chamber of my premises, chained in silver, three vampires whose fate over the next forty eight hours will determine the destination of the crown and the future of your pack. Compton, the sheriff of area 5 and the daughter of Northman will be entirely at your disposal if you agree to my proposal.'

The pack collectively gasped. Marcus was torn between jubilation and the uneasy feeling that this was perhaps a trap, that he had misjudged Edgington's designs and that king was waiting close by to rip him and his wolves to pieces for agreeing to this treachery.

'Tell me more.'

'You must trust me, Marcus, and understand that I do not mean to incriminate you in anything beyond what you care to reveal to me here. You need not respond to what I am about to say, either to deny it or confirm it. If you say nothing and simply lead your pack out of here, I will assume nothing from that gesture that might be prejudicial to your interests. I will continue with my plans, but I will be sorry indeed to lose the inestimable benefit of your cooperation.' Marcus nodded. 'I understand that since the demise of my queen, Sophie-Anne, you have been dealing vampire blood under the direction of certain renegade members of the Authority who wish to distance this illicit trade from the vampire community. I know who these vampires are and I have sufficient connections to ensure that they will not implicate you in any future investigation of the supply of V in the state. My proposal is this. You gather as much of the drug as you have at your disposal. You take it to Compton's mansion once I have given you the all-clear and you will plant it there. I will notify the Authority of Compton's criminal activities. Leave the details to me, but it is vital that I am distanced from any violence against the king and his staff. The feud between yourselves and the king gives you the pretext for having Compton and his little entourage in your custody and I will inform the Authority that it was your invasion of the king's premises that revealed a consignment of vampire blood of which he had just taken custody. It would have been entirely natural for you, in obedience to vampire law, to have informed the sheriff of your area of the king's infraction. Your violence against the king would be vindicated by the rule of blood-vengeance that prevails in the dealings between our species. The Authority might demand some financial restitution, but your losses will justify your action against Compton in the overall scheme of things. And, believe me, you will be handsomely rewarded for your cooperation. There will be no repetition of the unfortunate events of the last war. I have the king under my roof and there is nobody to whom he can appeal for help. And even if he did, Marcus, I am sure that I could count on your contacts in the were community of this State to supplement my forces...?'

Marcus delivered a slow, sly smile as he contemplated the implications of Russell's invitation.

'Without prejudice to my pack, I suggest that it might be possible that Compton could be implicated in the dealing of V and that, if this proves to be the case, we would be only too happy to support you in whatever action you deem necessary, sir.'

'Oh, this is fabulous news! _TALBOT_! Quickly, prepare refreshments for our guests. And now, Marcus, one remaining matter does slightly continue to perplex me. Tell me what you know about the whereabouts of Sookie Stackhouse.'


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N Thanks for all your lovely reviews since I've been posting again. I'm sorry if I'm not always able to reply, but I do try to. In this chapter, we return to Eric and Sookie - yay! Also, we will learn over the next couple of chapters exactly how the Viking vampire came to be in exile. Finally! xx**

Chapter 17

The effects of sleeping underground, for Eric, were twofold: he awoke thoroughly disoriented, and he awoke ravenous. Something about lying beneath the bare earth seemed to intensify his appetite, which would have been enhanced anyway since he hadn't fed on anything for two nights _and_ he had given Sookie his blood before sleeping. For this reason, even after coming fully to his senses, Eric remained buried for some time as he struggled to master his impulses. If he surfaced so overwhelmed by the need to feed, with Sookie close by, it would be a catastrophe. He focused on his love for the woman, calling to mind the emotions of the night before, and was astonished by his connection to what he could only describe as his _humanity_. Confident that he had disciplined his hunger, that he would pose no threat to his lover, he slowly emerged. She was not there. He had been concentrating so hard on overcoming his appetite for her blood that he had failed to register, through his blood in her, that she was gone.

Eric, for some reason, found himself laughing like a fool and calling her name: 'Sookie! Don't hide from me! Where are you, baby?' His laughter died on his lips. She wasn't hiding; she was nowhere close by. A spasm of terror shook Eric to the core. She'd been taken. But how? How could the weres possibly have found them here? No, she'd taken fright and ran. She'd been vulnerable – traumatised by her abduction by the wolves, and then spirited away several hundred miles from home by a vampire she barely knew. She had hardly been in her right mind, and he'd taken advantage of that. He'd seduced her and made mad declarations of love that in the light of day she'd probably interpreted as either psychopathically demented, or as some sort of piss-take. He whimpered as he imagined the emotions that might have made his lover run away from him – and again he was amazed by the sensation of _empathy_. He choked it down. Sookie had fled into the woods with nothing to defend her but his blood in her veins. They were deep in bear country. She had no idea where she was. He had to find her no matter what her reasons were for running.

His sense of Sookie's scent was enhanced by the blood she had taken from him and he allowed his instinct for tracking to take over, even letting his appetite for feeding motivate him to some degree since it helped to dampen his emotional turmoil: at this moment, he needed to be _vampire, _not a love-struck human fretting over hypotheticals. He set off due east following his lover's trial. It intensified as he contoured around the shoulder of a steep, deeply wooded hillside and thankfully he could discern no other scent; nothing had crossed Sookie's path that might have been a threat to her. The forest thinned out on the approach to a rocky stream which tumbled into a pool on a narrow plateau. She was sat, head bowed, her legs dangling into the water. She turned to him before he had the chance to speak her name.

'Eric. Please. Don't... don't come any closer.'

He dropped to his knees and spread his arms. 'Sookie. I'm sorry. I don't know what to say to you. Except, please, trust me. I'll take you home, wherever you call home, you don't even need to speak to me. Just come with me, please. Don't be afraid of me. I can't bear this.'

'Eric Northman. Who are you?'

Eric opened his mouth to speak, and yet had nothing. Who was he? What possible account of himself could he give to this human who had already been betrayed by one of his kind? His body went limp, sinking into the grass; 'I don't know, Sookie. Who am I?'

Sookie gazed at him, questioningly, warily. She slowly stood and walked to him, kneeling to take his bowed head in her hands. 'Eric, just tell me. Tell me everything. The weres... I overheard them talking about you. It didn't register with me until today, whilst you were sleeping, and I was having doubts. I was frightened. Bill was... he said he could be trusted. He lied. The weres said that you powerful, and that they wanted you. That was why I was taken, Eric, to trade with Bill for Pam in the knowledge that this would summon _you_. And that you might join with the weres, against Bill. So here am I – again, Eric – a pawn in some drama I don't begin to understand. Tell me, Eric Northman, _who you are_.'

'Sookie, I can do better than that. Whatever I said to you, given your history with Bill, would you trust it? I need to do better than giving you my word. I would never, I _will_ never, betray you or lie to you, Sookie, but I understand how little the word of a vampire might mean to you if Bill abused your trust. I can _show_ you how I came to this. I can let you feel it, live it with me. You have my blood. I'm over a thousand years old. Join your mind with mine and I can help you _see_ who I am, Sookie. The former sheriff of Area Five, yes. Falsely accused of treachery and exiled by my king, whom I utterly despise, yes. Living in hiding in a dive in Shreveport, yes. But these are just words, why would you believe a vampire whom you might justifiably suppose is simply using you as a pawn in his big drama? I get that. So live it with me. See the truth of it, Sookie.'

'You can't glamour me, Eric. I'm immune to it. Maybe you've tried it, I don't know, but vampire mind -control is not on the agenda with this piece of ass.' The bitterness in her voice was like a slap in the face. Eric grabbed her wrist and focused his pain through his blood, into her blood, and Sookie screamed with the shock of his emotion. 'Sookie, that is my blood in you. That is not glamour.' He let her go and moved back. 'I will take you home right now and we need never meet again. I will always be there for you, whenever you call me, but I'm not interested in compulsion, manipulation, or any of that vampire-on-human bullshit. What you don't give freely, I don't want. Not your body, not your mind, not your love if it's based on anything but the truth about me. I ask you to trust me, to let me take you into the truth about me. That's a big ask, I see that. I am amazed that I see that, but I do – and that's why I say that if you want to leave this place now, it is your choice. But know this, Sookie, I _do_ love you; I don't care that you might disbelieve me or at the very least dispute my motives, but you have ... changed me. Ha! The weres were wrong! They already had me when they had you! They thought that Pam... Oh Jesus fucking Christ. What the fuck _is this_?'

Eric turned away, struggling to stand, crying out in a language foreign to Sookie but fraught with pain. She rose and helped him to his feet, embracing him and stroking his hair, understanding at that moment, with shocking clarity, what it meant for Eric to say he loved her.

'Yes, Eric. Whatever it takes. I want to know. I'll go with you.'


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N This is my longest chapter so far and one that I very much enjoyed writing so I hope you enjoy it too. Thanks again for your kind remarks!**

Chapter 18

They lay on a grassy incline by the stream, facing each other, their foreheads touching. Eric took Sookie's hand and murmured that she should concentrate on the beating of her heart, the blood flowing through her veins, and clear her mind.

'This isn't glamour, Sookie. You'll remain conscious and you can stop at any time, just open your eyes and pull away.'

She squeezed his hand and breathed out long and slow. 'I'm ready.'

For a moment her head swam, her heart began to race and she almost screamed with the feeling that she _was_ losing consciousness, falling into some unfathomable blackness; but then her mind cleared. She remained aware that she and Eric were lying together; she could still move and direct her will in real-time even as she entered the vivid dream-scape that had materialised out of the darkness. She was in a bar, or club, illuminated with red light and throbbing with the dark, harsh bass and vocals of a Goth band she remembered from way back... Bauhaus? No...Sisters of Mercy, that song - _Temple of Love_! She smiled at her ability in these extraordinary circumstances to play 'name that tune'! She was sitting on a very large, ornate seat on some kind of stage and in front of her a line of people were waiting, gazing up at her with the most odd expressions...awe, adoration, lust, fear? She recognised the vampire who had rescued her from the weres – Pam, of course – organising the queue and efficiently weeding out undesirables, which especially included anyone dressed in shorts, sweatpants or corduroy.

The woman at the head of the queue of her bizarre admirers stepped on to the stage, knelt down and immediately titled her head to the right, exposing her neck and raising her hands in a pleading gesture.

'Feed, sir! _Please_. Take my blood. I love you!'

Her hands – _her_ hands? Eric's hands – extended out to take the woman's head and raise it level. She moved close and whispered, 'To save you from utter humiliation, woman, I will not kick you off this stage and have my staff throw you into the street in spite of your incomprehensible contravention of that sign there, you see it?' She twisted the woman's head to the left. 'I do not feed in public. I am not a fucking grotesque. Now fuck off, sweetheart, before I snap your neck in two. OK?'

The woman sobbed and ran. Outside the dream-scape, Sookie gasped and tensed; Eric stroked her hand in reassurance. But what Sookie was feeling in the dream-world of Fangtasia (she noticed the neon sign flashing the club's name above the bar) was not fear, but exhilaration, power...until _her_ emotions faded to be replaced with... weariness, boredom, irritation. She stood and leapt off the stage, pushing the waiting humans out of her way and gesturing to Pam to follow her to the office.

'Is Compton here yet?'

'No, he's on his way. You know he can't drive in the fucking dark, Eric. And if that moron Gloria gets his limo above 50 and them here within the hour then I will let his majesty fuck me over this desk.'

Sookie was highly amused and slightly scandalised. So _that_ was why Bill had never agreed to drive! Beneath her mirth, though, she felt Eric's continued irritation, and a stab of anxiety.

'He's been here three times since he became king and it nearly caused a riot on every memorable occasion. We don't exactly attract the royalist loyalist types, do we? I'm getting a bit too old for the constant fucking excitement of being sheriff to a regicidal, human-worshipping lunatic king.'

'Perhaps you should retire? Or make a move on the throne yourself, Eric, chop off the king's head and blame it on your hormones! Oh shit, they're here.'

The commotion in the car park was audible as Bill arrived to a chorus of cat-calls and violent obscenities. Pam hurried off to smooth his way in whilst Eric opened a Tru Blood and tried to effect nonchalance.

'Your Royal Highness! Managed to get in without being staked? Good for you. Well, it's a quiet night. I've warmed you a Tru Blood. Gloria, dear, would you like a glass of... human something?'

'Gin and tonic please, Mr. Northman.'

'Oh, Sheriff Northman to you, Gloria, please! What can I do for you, sir? I assume this isn't a social call?'

'You're right. You know I've always valued your loyalty, Eric.' Eric's eyes widened and he stifled the impulse to laugh. 'And right now I believe that the hostility towards me in certain quarters might be crystallising into something a good deal more serious. Franklin Mott's currently on secondment to area 2 after that...falling out of his with Sheriff Dawson.' Eric raised his eyebrows. 'Yes, I know! Totally! Just when you think Mott doesn't have the fangs he was born with and he goes and drains those triplets!' Eric exhaled heavily and nodded. 'Yes, he's a lose canon,' Bill continued, 'but such a fucking doormat when he's under the thumb – Dawson just didn't have the trick with Frank, you know? The trick is to make him feel _important_, then he'd lick up your spittle from the floor if you asked him. So I sent him to deputy for Edgington. He's picked up this rumour – that lad of Edgington's, Talbot, is one hell of a leaky vessel apparently – that a plot is brewing. No more details, just something possibly very...prejudicial to the monarchy's interests. The Vampire History Convention is coming up and Edgington's hosting it this year in place of ...hummm, our former queen.' Bill shifted uncomfortably. 'I want you to attend this convention, Eric. To assess whether there is any substance to this rumour. Your cover will be that you are researching for a new historical theme that you wish to introduce to Fangtasia – Vampires of the Inquisition, I thought? Something suitably...Gothic?'

Eric gazed at Bill first in incredulity, then in anger as he realised that the king was not joking, and then in resignation as he realised he would have to go.

'Very well. But I am not wearing a costume. And I am not participating in any battle re-enactments or any military historical re-creational events of any kind. Some of those vampires go fucking mental in reconstructed war scenarios. And _I_ say this, and _I _am a Viking. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must get back to the loyal subjects of Fangtasia. You can email my itinerary.'

Eric strode out, took one look at the ever lengthening queue of humans before his throne, and left through the back door to take to the air.

'Sookie? Sookie? Are you OK?

Her fore head was damp with sweat and her pulse fast, but when she opened her eyes they were clear and lucid.

'I'm OK. Actually, Eric, this is truly weird for sure. But kind of...invigorating. And certainly a revelation.' She smirked. 'I mean – Bill Compton can't _drive in the dark_?'

Eric rolled his eyes. 'You mean you didn't know? You mean he had _you_ as a chauffeur?'

Sookie was offended, and more than a little hurt. 'Well, Eric, in this day and age women are actually permitted to drive and most men don't actually make a big deal out of it. And Bill was a bit of a technophobe, which I did find kinda sweet. You know, once he bought me a selection of garden tools after mine were stolen – but most of them were, like, heavy duty forestry equipment! To trim a few roses and mow a small lawn! He didn't have a clue. Oh and ...well, we never really went aware. We lived real close in Bon Temps, mine was the house across the cemetery. It still is...'

Her voice faltered and Eric pulled her close. This explained why he'd never met Sookie whilst she was dating Bill. Before Bill became king, Eric had rarely had occasion to visit Bon Temps and without any serious connections with the vampire community in Area 5 it would have been easy for Bill to keep Sookie very much to himself, presenting himself as the quaint, back-water, civil war gentleman. But what the hell had he ever done to lose her? To cause her to leave her home and go live in that dump in Shreveport? Sookie clearly loved her old family home, so whatever it was it must have been pretty catastrophic. Dear Sookie. In her own way, he figured she was just as much in exile as he was.

'Sookie, I'd like to take you back in – but it could get very intense, so I need you to promise to pull out if you need to, and if I feel you getting distressed I'll break the bond myself. Trust me. I'm living this too, remember; I can feel your emotions, just as you can feel mine. I'll know when to stop.'

'It's fine.' She took his hand again and closed her eyes. 'I trust you.'

The darkness cleared more quickly this time and Sookie found herself in what looked to be an elaborate, colonial ball-room with chandeliers hanging every few feet and an ornate double stair case leading to a balcony from which a banner hung reading: 'Welcome to the 131st Vampire History Convention!' The place was packed to the rafters with vampires of all ages and races, many of whom seemed to be in fancy dress: eighteenth-century courtesans; Roman centurions; Egyptian kings... vampires sure had a diverse history if this was anything to go by, and it was also clear that vampire 'mainstreaming' was hardly a new phenomenon. They must have been blending in and going about their business since the iron-age, by the look of it. She was slightly disappointed to find that she was not done up as a Viking. Eric had made his opposition to the dress code pretty clear, but she would still have liked to have experienced being in her lover's body in the full regalia. It was really rather an exciting thought. In real-time, Eric stirred and smiled at the sense that Sookie was getting quite aroused by the idea of him (her) in the full Nordic get up.

'I must say, Mr. Northman, that I loved your talk on the vampires of the Inquisition. It really would be a fabulous theme to spice up your little bar, no doubt, but your paper was immaculately researched – really very scholarly. Were you around during that particular period, sir?'

Eric was confronting a male vampire dressed as a Catholic cardinal who appeared slightly drunk on the very fresh human blood that had been flowing freely throughout the evening.

'Yes, I did have the misfortune to experience that particular degradation of the human spirit. It was why I came to America, in fact. Though things were hardly that much better here at that time. Are they that much better now, do you think? How far away are we from the next inquisition, do you suppose, your Grace?'

The vampire looked confused, and then affronted. Eric was surprised to hear himself waxing so philosophical and concluded it was definitely time for some fresh air. He was also due to check in with Bill - to report, for the third night in a row, that as far as he could ascertain absolutely nothing was brewing in the state of Louisiana. Well, nothing beyond the sort of uncomplimentary murmurs you would expect when your king was a night-blind, love-sick fool. He wandered off, nonchalantly sipping his glass of blood, to the far end of the grounds where he took out his mobile and checked his messages. Pam was missing him at Fangtasia. A crowd of rowdy New York tourists were demanding free drinks as recompense for the fact that the bar's key attraction – him, apparently – was not present. Eric replied speedily: 'Gonna try to cut this short, nothing happening, waste of time, may be back tmrw, chin up babe, x'. He was about to dial Bill when something struck him hard from behind. He swung around but then – white hot pain, his face burning – silver spray. He collapsed to the ground and felt his mind shut down as the heavy chains closed around his arms and his body was dragged lifeless to the bluey-green truck waiting, engine revving, in the thickness of the trees.

The blackness thinned out to reveal a large, unfurnished room that Sookie recognised. This was the cellar in the HQ of the New Orleans weres.

'Wakey, wakey, sheriff!' Marcus delivered a sharp, back-handed slap that flung Eric's head back against the wall. 'I'm so sorry not to be able to offer you my usual hospitality, but Russell Edgington doesn't take kindly to spies in his midst and he was ever so _insistent_ that we take you off his hands. He has somewhat bigger fish to fry at the moment...'

The were had in his left hand a silver rod, about three feet long. He ran the tip slowly down Eric's cheek before pulling it back to strike a vicious blow against his chest. Eric choked back the urge to scream, raised his eyes, half-blinded with blood, and levelled his gaze to Marcus. He growled (hoping that his voice carried a good deal more conviction than he actually felt), 'My king will have your fucking hide before the night is out.'

'Oooh, I very much doubt that, sheriff! As we speak, Russell is launching an attack – with twenty of the most ferocious vampire mercenaries it as ever been my delight to meet – against your monarch. Before the night is out, Northman, the throne will be his and your king will be dead. Cooter! Come on, comrade, time for your treat...'

An enormous, snarling beast padded over from the far corner of the basement. It paused for a second, relishing the scent of the blood, before rearing up on its hind legs and striking.

Eric gripped Sookie's shoulders firmly and spoke her name over and over to reassure her she was not there, it was not real, she _must_ come out of it. She was sobbing, shaking, uncontrollably. As her breathing slowed, and her body stilled, he felt her emotions shift and blaze from abject terror, to pure rage. She finally spoke. Her voice calm, ice cold.

'What the fuck was that?'

Eric released his grip and took her hands. 'Well, not the worst of it, as it happens. They captured Pam, she'd felt what was happening and _had_ to come. I knew she would, that was the real torment – the certainty that whatever happened to me would soon be happening to her, that we'd both be dead before sunrise. But no – turns out that even after a thousand years I can still be surprised. Pam did come, we were both pretty close to the true death – but then, there was some sort of commotion, the weres disappeared. The sun rose, we slept, then they returned with... with the fucking king. Russel's scheme had failed – to this day, I have no idea how. Now, imagine this, imagine what a total fucking prick I felt – there I am, beaten to within an inch of my life, my progeny next to me virtually breathing her last, thinking that here is our deliverance! Beaming all over my stupid fucking face at our saviour, the king of Louisiana, who proceeds to unchain us, then chain us again even tighter, and drag us off as prisoners back to Bon Temps. I have to hand it to Edgington – he's a genius. I can kind of see, in a way, why that vampire deserves to be king. He'd kept well out of the fighting, well out of the area in fact, which is why nobody had set eyes on him at the convention. He planned, I guess, to return in glory once the battle was over to claim the throne. But that's not how it worked out. With his army somehow defeated, Russell engaged plan B and that's where I came in, fortuitously gifted to him when that moron Franklin Mott let slip to Talbot that I was at the convention under cover for the king. Until Russell cottoned on his war was lost, he'd intended the weres to kill us, no doubt, but his plan B saved our skins – for what it was worth. He let it be known that the coup was my brainchild, that he'd discovered this at the convention and taken me prisoner. He'd covered his tracks so cleanly that, with all his soldiers either fled or dead, and his back-room allies too terrified to speak, he managed to convince the king that the traitor was _me_. Bill planned a pretty prompt execution, but the Authority intervened. I don't know, but... I think they did the bidding of my Maker. I haven't seen him for the best part of a millennium, and he's gone pretty fucking peculiar to say the least, but he's one of the oldest vampires there is and if they'd killed me...it could have been Armageddon in Louisiana, to be frank. So I was exiled. Bill managed to accept that Pam had nothing to do with it, and he's always actually quite admired Pam. Hated her, but, you know, she is pretty fucking incredible. Better to have her on side, he figured, keep your enemies close, yadayadayada. He keeps her _very_ close; she has quarters at his house, he barely even lets her feed in peace. And yet, it's only a matter of time before Pam slips up, you know. I thought I was impulsive, but Jesus! Anyway, for me, exile turns out to be Shreveport. In direct contravention of royal decree, I remain in the state. I won't leave Pam. But if Compton ever sets eyes on me...ha ha! It couldn't have been _less_ convenient, Sookie, for me to have moved into _your_ apartment! No?'

Sookie kissed the tears from his cheeks, smudging lips with his blood as she did so. She rose to her feet and walked to the pool just beneath the grassy bank on which they'd been lying. She took off her clothes, walked into the water, and gestured to him to follow.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N - Thanks again for reading and for your encouraging and helpful reviews!**

Chapter 19

Pam had been conscious for several moments before she allowed herself slowly to open her eyes. Through the red mist of her blood she perceived an ornate sitting room kitted out in a faux-Georgian manner that managed to appear highly expensive but also utterly tasteless. Weres! Huh! Even through the searing pain she was quite pleased to note that she was still sufficiently in command of herself to recognise bad style when she saw it. She remained motionless and tried to assess the damage. She was chained upright to a low-backed chair. Her blood was burning, her stomach cramped and every muscle in her body was twisted and stretched, screaming in agony. Silver poisoning. Yes, she remembered, in the Tru Blood – Edgington had herded them together and doped them up like they were three stupid little wide-eyed fucking sheep. But if she was capable of coming round and having even half-coherent thoughts, then she _must_ have been fed. Silver was so toxic to a vampire when ingested that it was impossible for the body to flush it out without a significant dose of human blood; otherwise, the vampire would remain comatose and would eventually die. The fact that she was conscious meant that Edgington and his allies did not mean to kill her – at least not yet. Whether the same could be said of Bill and Franklin was not clear; they were not in the room, but as Pam's attention became more focused and her vision cleared somewhat she perceived that she was nevertheless not alone. At the far end of the room, on a long sofa by the window, was a petite young were girl flicking idly through a glossy magazine. She seemed as yet oblivious to the fact that her captive had awakened. Pam tried to assess how securely she was chained; the metal wasn't silver, which surprised her, and there was enough room for her to move her hands and feet a couple of inches either way. She wondered if she might have the strength to work herself loose…but no, the faint effort of shifting her limbs even slightly caused her to gasp in pain and the were looked up, giving an ice cold smile and throwing her magazine to the ground.

'Pam, I'm delighted to have you back! I'm sorry we're not in a position to be more hospitable, but you should really count yourself lucky – privileged, even. Sheriff Edgington seems to have quite a soft spot for you. Your king and your colleague have not been quite so, um, fortunate.' Pam flinched. 'Oh don't worry, they're still alive – for now. But Russell wishes to make a deal. He sees you, for some reason, as a quite an extraordinary vampire and would like to enlist your support. He assumes, for one thing, that you remain loyal to Northman. It is no great secret that you're hardly enamoured of your king and if your king falls, well, what happens to you? If you join with Russell your future is assured and if your Maker returns, which we have reason to believe he almost certainly will, he will surely be persuaded to support the monarchy in return for a high stake in the new regime. Northman as the king's deputy? You as the new sheriff of Area 5 and Fangtasia redeemed from that fuckwit, Franklin? It's got to be tempting, hasn't it?'

There was a long moment of silence. Pam's stomach reeled and retched, her scorched throat tightening as she struggled to find the means to speak. A thin, viscous strand of blood ran from her lip as she opened her mouth to speak.

'Fuck you.'

Some thirty miles south east of Gatlinburg, Pam's maker and his human lover were bathing in the glow of a full moon. As Eric slowly washed Sookie's back, luxuriating in the feel of her warm, human flesh against the cold of the water running through his hands, he became hard. She felt his excitement as he moved his hands across her body cleaning off the moss and dry autumn leaves that still clung to her skin. He wanted to turn her around to meet him, to crush her to him, but he made no move. She seemed willing, but she might still be sore, or tired at least, and he didn't want to make love to Sookie if her senses weren't alive for him. It was Sookie, finally, who turned to place a shy kiss on his lips.

'Sookie?'

'Please.'

Eric shook with desire as he placed a hand between her thighs, stroking, not moving in.

'Are you sore?'

Sookie shook her head and gave a wide smile that was almost child-like in its glee, its anticipation. Eric groaned her name as he pressed his lips to her cheek and rested her against the grassy bank. With cool drops from the mountain stream flickering against his back, he slipped inside her still mindful that it was so soon after the last time, that she might find it painful to have him go so deep again. Sookie felt him holding back and was touched by his hesitancy, even as she wondered, incredulous almost, at the depths of this wilful, strong vampire's tender concern for her. She placed her hands behind him and pulled him in to her, murmuring sweet reassurance to her lover to push, to take what she was giving to him, her body, open for him, and her love and her desire growing to a fever as she came around him, softly breathing his name against his cold, wet skin.

Wrapped in her lover's arms, Sookie fell into a light sleep and was dreaming of her gran's house, and of Jason playing on that little tricycle he'd had when he was no more than three or four years old…..

'Pamela! _PAMELA_!'

She snapped awake, confused, and found Eric kneeling a few yards from her, moaning, his head bowed in his hands.

'Eric! Please, honey, what…'

He turned, panting and shaking, struggling to regain control. He crawled to her and she took him in her arms. 'Your child, Pam…?'

'She's in a terrible state, _Jesus_ – the pain.' Eric's body seemed to spasm for a moment, his head lolling back, before he steadied himself again. ' Sookie, I _have_ to go to her. Alone.' Sookie tensed. 'It's too risky for you, lover. I'll take you to Gatlinburg and find a place for you to stay. I have the money, and it won't be for long darling, I promise…'

'No _way_ Eric, I'm coming with you. You can leave me in Bon Temps – but don't abandon me here, I'll be sick with worry – _please_.'

'It's not just the danger, Sookie. I'm…not too strong right now. I haven't fed in a while and… I'm not sure I could carry you back. I'm sorry lover, there is no other way.'

Sookie released him from her embrace and met his gaze steadily. 'There is another way, Eric.' She moved back slightly and raised her wrist to his trembling lips.

'Drink.'

Several hundred miles away, a few moments earlier, Dawn Legendre had taken from a black case on the floor by her feet a long syringe filled with what looked like blood. Not human blood, though – too dark, and even from across the room, with her senses dulled to almost nothing, Pam flinched at the rank, earthy, smell.

Were blood.

Dawn moved around to the back of the chair where Pam's arms were chained and levelled the syringe against a vein. As she pushed down, she lowered her lips to Pam's ear and murmured: 'This is for Cooter.'


End file.
